


Sober and Unkissed

by xashesxashesx (fandomfatale)



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfatale/pseuds/xashesxashesx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Effie and Haymitch grow closer while rooting for Katniss and Peeta in the Hunger Games. He tries so hard not to care about anyone…</p><p>Book Canon. All action takes place during the first book, but some background information about Haymitch that is not learned until Books 2 and 3 are discussed, so it's mildly spoilerish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

It was not surprising, given Effie’s nature, that she found the silence uncomfortable. She and Haymitch had been alone before, but there was usually an easy and uncomplicated conversational subject at hand, an important and all-consuming thought to consider independently, papers in her hands to be read, and/or - most often - a barrier of intoxication between them comprised of varying degrees of consciousness. 

But not this time. 

He was sober, or as close to it as he ever got. And her tasks were done. There was the only the waiting now. 

The wall clock ticked. Ten seconds. 30 seconds. One minute. It was the only sound. Occasionally the melting ice in his untouched tumbler of liquor resettled. She yawned as the stress of the past week caught up with her in the stillness. Seated next to each other on the loveseat in the viewing room she could hear him breathe every fifth time or so as an oxygen deficit built because he was nervous and so he inhaled more deeply. 

Tick, tick, tick.

Until it was too much for her. 

“I remember your Games,” she ventured cheerily, turning her head to look at him. She more than remembered – she had rewatched them after she began working with Haymitch, but she didn’t tell him that. “I was very young, of course. Only 6 or-“

“I don’t want to talk about my Games,” he interrupted, his voice quiet but his tone hard and definitive. 

Her lips fell. “No, of course not. Why would you?” she responded heavily, shaking her head with sympathy and then shifting her gaze back to the television which showed only the official state seal of the Hunger Games. She stared at it introspectively. 

It was the most sensible thing he had ever heard her say, and she hadn’t even bothered to be insulted by his incivility. “I never talk about it,” he added for her benefit, so she would know that it was nothing against her personally. 

The tributes had left for the arena an hour earlier. Effie had expected Haymitch to be in his room drinking, like he had done in every year past, watching the start of the Games in private. There was no point in schmoozing up the sponsors if your students didn’t survive the first day. It always angered her to see him giving up on them. But maybe he was just a man who could recognize when there was no hope. A man for whom it hurt too much to believe in anything but the inevitable loss of all that mattered. 

But it seemed he was a man who was still capable hope: here he was, after all. 

“It’s our year, Haymitch,” she prophesized, encouraged. “One of those two is coming back to us. I just know it.”

“The only thing you know, Effie, is the time and what’s next on the schedule,” he snarled, ungrateful for her optimism. 

At first he found satisfaction in seeing the always merry Effie so deflated, but then her downcast gaze and soft frown began to trouble him. If she couldn’t find her smile she must truly have been affected. The way she stared forward at the screen made him think there was more on her mind than just his unkind tone. 

He sighed, and he hoped she heard in it somewhere a small apology. 

Pouring the drink had given him comfort, as did knowing it was there. But it wouldn’t do for him to pass out drunk an hour into the Games. Not this year. So he left it there, staring at it occasionally. He wanted it now more than ever.

Suddenly Panem’s National Anthem began to play. Soon the screen would light up with their first view of the new arena. The cameras would pan to the cornucopia so that the audience could see what treasures laid there, before, finally, the tributes would rise up from their respective launch rooms, and then the Games would begin. 

Effie reached forward suddenly, grabbed his glass, and drank the whole thing down in one gulp. She cleared her throat daintily and then leaned back against the cushions. 

He smiled, surprised, before his attention was drawn back to the television


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who reviewed or kudos'ed. Your interest is my biggest inspiration. I never intended for so much time to elapse before I put up the next chapter but a couple of things came up and messed with my schedule, so I apologize.

Haymitch spotted Cinna and Portia entering the lounge. Most of the escorts and mentors had left their private viewing rooms after the initial bloodbath was over and ventured out to socialize with the money and the gamblers. The stylists poured in one by one after returning from the arena - some chipper, others, like those for District 12, somber and silent. 

Portia reached up and surreptitiously wiped away a tear for Peeta. Crying in this room and in this company was unheard of. Treasonous even. Cinna placed his hand on her back and ushered her hurriedly over to the refreshments table where Haymitch joined them. 

“How was she?” he asked. 

Cinna shrugged. Terrified. Determined. Furious. A hundred descriptors passed through his mind but he didn’t need to say anything: Haymitch already knew. He knew Katniss, and he had been in her place before. 

“And Peeta?” Haymitch inquired, turning to Portia. It hurt to think about the boy. He could only root for one of them, and Katniss was the one who could win. And not just because of her score of 11 from the gamemakers, or her marksmanship, or her familiarity with the forest. But because she could do what had to be done.

Portia’s eyes welled with water. Her low voice cracked: “He was worried about her.” 

Of course he was. Haymitch sighed. At least she had an ally. He thought of Maysilee Donner for a brief moment. It was almost as difficult to have an ally in the Games as it was to work alone. You have to spend the entire time wondering if maybe they’re actually your enemy. You try not to care about them, but it doesn’t work. You begin to care about them, and then they die. Haymitch always thinks of Maysilee as the first loss. Her death was a bigger landmark than hearing his name called at his Reaping. Death and loss is all there is now. Since Maysilee. 

He glanced around the room. Effie was flittering about. She had alighted in nearly every circle for polite hellos and smiles, in between frowning at him every time he poured a drink. Eyes like a hawk, that one. She swooped in now with the handsome Finnick Odair, who was swamped in a crowd of lecherous, wealthy women. His male tribute had died at the cornucopia – poor showing for a career – but his female pupil had attached herself too the tributes from Districts 1 and 2 and still stood a chance. He greeted Effie warmly and they exchanged some words which Haymitch couldn’t hear - she was laughing too much. 

She was the only one of them with any charm, so she was quick to use twice as much of it. The Peeta to his Katniss, Haymitch thought for a second. Then he shook the idea away – Katniss and Peeta’s romance was both doomed and false – it was hardly a comparison he wanted to be a part of. And, of course, the story of him and Effie was hardly a romance. Was there a word for the relationship between acquaintances who hardly tolerated each other? Either way, the parallel gave him and Effie far too much credit.

Especially Effie.

He turned his head to the television. It was only late afternoon, but the shade of the trees made the forest dark. Katniss appeared to be searching for water as he had instructed. The risk she took in going after the backpack had been inadvisable, but now that she was safe and in possession of some important supplies, he was satisfied. Peeta had managed to coax his way into the careers’ alliance with promises of delivering Katniss, his intention to do the exact opposite was obvious enough to Haymitch, and, he hoped, to the audience as well. The boy’s people skills and his talent with words were shining. It was good he was in a group – alone Peeta would be far less compelling, and it was doubtful he had the knowledge required to survive in the forest for the remainder of the competition. 

He glanced back at Effie only to unexpectedly meet her eyes – she had been watching him. She nodded reassuringly. She seemed to say, “They’re doing well.”

He returned the nod unsurely – unused to this teamwork and this unspoken communication. 

He rotated back towards the table to pour himself a drink. When he reached out to grab it after putting the lid back on the decanter he found it missing. 

“Wha-?”

Effie set it down on the opposite end of the table. “You have got a job to do,” she attacked. She smiled politely at Cinna and Portia, “Hello, hello. Big day,” before shifting back to Haymitch with a poorly disguised scowl. “Why are you just standing over here? You haven’t talked to anyone. ‘Make them like you’ was the advice you gave to Katniss. It’s time you take your own advice.” 

The attention Effie had given to his teaching unsettled him a little. “I’m getting a feel for the room.” He extended his hand towards his glass but Effie slapped it away. 

“While Gloss and Finnick are getting a feel for the cash already in their hands,” she snapped.

“Relax, relax. Another six tributes will be dead before Katniss even needs a parachute. I’ve been watching the sponsors. I can tell from their faces who has betted on our girl.”

Effie furrowed her eyebrows skeptically, then nodded, placated. Only he could arrange the gifts. All she could do, in the end, was trust his judgment. And it took her by surprise, but she realized that, ultimately, she did. 

She scanned the table with curiosity, before picking up a fruit tart and nibbling at it. “All of this excitement,” she babbled, “I can’t tell if I’m nauseated or starving.”

“I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she seems even more upbeat than usual,” Cinna remarked privately to Haymitch. 

“It’s hope. We’re all infected, I’m afraid,” Haymitch replied. He and Cinna exchanged a serious look severely lacking in it. 

The comment made Haymitch think. With all the disgust he carried around towards Effie – her voice as she called out the names of the tributes from District 12 each Reaping, her animated words of congratulations to those just sentenced to death, her smiles as she parted from them the night before the Games began as if the next day were simply a picnic, her idiotic attention to minutiae, and her ridiculous appearance – he never took the time to appreciate the fact that underneath all that somewhere was a woman who was far more distressed than she appeared. Not just this year, but every year. Thinking back, she was always subdued on the first day of the Games. At least she was the few times he saw her - namely meals - when she pushed food around on her plate instead of eating it and took long, solemn drinks of water instead of conversing. It had suited him just fine because he always felt the same.

It was the contrast with the Effie he saw before him now that brought on the realization. 

Effie swallowed the last bit of tart and brought her attention back to the others. “They’re mad about it – the star-crossed lovers bit. Peeta really sold it in his interview with Flickerman. Their hearts are breaking. If Peeta continues to protect her, they won’t want his sacrifices to have been in vain. They’ll want her to live. And if she makes it into the top 8, those interviews with little Prim are really going to seal the deal. I know the team they’ll be sending back to 12. I might even be able to influence which questions they ask.”

Effie the strategizer. Yet another side to her. He slapped her on the back proudly. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, startled. But then she smiled. 

Yes, they all had a bad case of hope.


	3. Chapter Three

He banged on her door. There was a doorbell, but he pounded drunkenly against the thick wood instead. 

She didn’t open it. A security camera gave her a view of him, and she sighed before pressing the button on the intercom. “What is it, Haymitch?”

He turned his back to her, leaning against the wall, taking a swig out of the bottle he carried. He didn’t answer. 

“You woke me,” she complained.

He didn’t apologize.

“I don’t want you vomiting all over my floor, Haymitch. My hand-made District 8 silk rug is one of a kind. It has 300 knots per inch. 300! Vomit doesn’t come out of silk.”

He turned his head towards the camera, lifted up the bottle, and gave it a shake; it was ¾ full. He tapped the liquid line to show her. 

Effie reasoned that it probably wasn’t his first bottle of the night (it certainly wasn’t his first of the day – that she knew for sure), but she sighed again and opened the door. “I didn’t even know that you knew where I lived,” she commented, watching him as he entered the room and took a seat on her sofa. Her apartment did not compare to the penthouse that housed District 12’s tributes before the Hunger Games, but it was respectable in size and impeccably furnished. 

Haymitch shrugged. He might have made a witty and insulting remark about the unimportance of the information, but he was taken aback by her appearance. He had never seen her not made-up. Apparently all those years, underneath those gigantic wigs of outrageously colored curly hair, had been shiny yellow locks that hung soft and straight. They rippled naturally when she inclined her head to the left, examining him with furrowed and impatient brow. 

Her hair was slightly damp, he noted. She must be recently out of the shower, all of that powder, lipstick, eyeliner, eye shadow, and mascara gone down the drain, leaving behind pinkish, pale skin and turquoise eyes. 

She looked…real. 

Capitol styles were fine for Capitol citizens. But Haymitch was from District 12. People were real there. Maybe too real, sometimes. 

Her night clothes were thick and modest. He found himself disappointed. He had known it was late for her – that she had probably been in bed. The revelation that he had been hoping for and even imagining her in something else was unwelcome. 

“They’re alive,” he said, turning his eyes away from her and towards her blank television screen. 

And then she understood – he was happy drunk. Relieved drunk. Grateful drunk. 

Maybe a new one for Haymitch. She had seen him angry drunk. Trying-to-forget drunk. Sad drunk. Desperate drunk. Apathetic drunk. This was different. 

She smiled. “Yes they are.”

Haymitch was finally accepting that after spending the day in a haze of incredulity.13 tributes had survived the first hours of the Games. 13 had survived the cornucopia and the mad, blind struggle of the beginning. And Peeta and Katniss were among them. 

“For now,” he added darkly. Then he changed the subject: “There’s no one here?” He glanced at her bedroom, though he hadn’t meant to. 

Effie stiffened. “No.” That was none of his business. As if she would have let him in if she had had…company. 

With the powder on he never would have noticed her blush, but without it the rosiness climbing up her cheeks was unmistakable. “It’s just I saw you…with that man, earlier.” He’d seen her with a lot of men, but one stood out. They had been together when Haymitch had left the sponsor lounge around dinner time. 

Haymitch wasn’t as drunk as she had thought. He was only slurring a little, and he had been steady on his feet for the most part. This twilight between his fearsome and cantankerous sobriety and his oafish inebriation unnerved her. 

“If you saw me with him then you must have recognized that it was Titus Tuck - the third richest man in the sponsor room. Of course I was talking with him.”

“Flirting with him.”

The correction indicated jealousy, but his inflection gave nothing away.

“Whatever it took.” Effie crossed her arms. “I’m trying to save those kids too. I’m sick of them dying. Every year. And I have to pick them, Haymitch. I have to pull out those names. Sons and daughters and brothers and sisters.” She plopped down next to him, depressed. “Every year they die. That’s half the reason I want to be assigned to another district.”

“The other half of the reason is to get away from me, right?” he guessed, taking another draught from his bottle. But it was not an accusatory comment; it was self-deprecating. 

“Well I didn’t fall off the stage at the Reaping. You’re not the easiest to work with, Haymitch. Hmm?” She lifted her eyebrows. She’d had choicer words for him immediately after the event, but it seemed she had cooled.

“You’re just upset that I messed up your wig.” He reached out and tugged on her real hair. “I saw in the recap – you kept adjusting it.” 

Her eyes widened at his touch, but then he let go.

Effie frowned perplexedly at him, then she rose, took the bottle, went to her kitchen, poured a minimal amount into a glass, and then handed it to him. “Manners.” One didn’t drink directly from the bottle in Effie Trinket’s apartment. Not even late at night. Not even Haymitch Abernathy. 

And she let Haymitch get away with a lot.

“So how does Titus Tuck feel about Katniss?”

Effie sat back down beside him. “Mr. Tuck likes that the gamemakers gave her an 11. He likes that she made it away from the cornucopia with iodine and a sleeping bag. We’ll see.”

She was calmer when she was tired, he noticed. And perhaps the intimacy of the moment brought out a different side in her. No cameras, no responsibilities - no one but him to see her, and she must be long past caring what he thought about her. Haymitch gestured at the television. “We should check right now.”

“They’re sleeping. Like I should be. Like you should be.”

“I don’t sleep anymore, Effie.” He lifted the glass to his lips and drank. “I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”

He seemed so tired, so vulnerable. She had never seen him like this. His happy-drunk was devolving into something far more self-aware. 

Effie bit her lip and then took his hand comfortingly. “Antonia told me,” she said softly. 

She braced herself, not knowing how he would react. Haymitch could be so…volatile. He needed someone to look after him, but he tried so hard to make that impossible. She didn’t know why she was making the effort to connect with someone who couldn’t even be bothered to say hello to her most days. But he was clearly looking for something from her, and for some reason that pleased her. 

And he was so alone…

His first inclination was to pull his hand away, but he didn’t. The words made Haymitch lift his eyes. Antonia had been the escort for District 12 before Effie. She’d done that job for years - since before Haymitch was a tribute. “Told you what?” he asked. But he already knew.

“About your family,” Effie explained. “About what happened to them. And why.”

“You’ve known all this time?” he asked quietly. “She shouldn’t have told you.”

“You should thank her. It might be the only reason I haven’t pushed you from a train. Yet.” There was a hint of a smile on her lips, but the attempt at levity failed. 

“Praise President Snow.” The note of sorrowful sarcasm was impossible to miss.

Effie averted her eyes. “It’s not my place to question such things.”

This made him angry, although a small part of him was pleased she hadn’t pretended to miss his meaning. “No. Of course not.” He stood, breaking his hand free from hers. He walked over to the window and gazed out on the street. 

She followed. “Well what do you expect from me?” She couldn’t help being resentful. 

“Nothing,” he spat. 

Effie tensed at his harshness and at the insult. 

Her reflection monopolized the window. He turned to her, grasping her arm: “No, you’re right. Keep your eyes down. Don’t question. Don’t draw attention to yourself. It’s the only way to be safe.” He released her arm ands shifted his eyes back to the glass. “It’s better that you’re safe. At least you can be safe.”

He didn’t glance at the television, but she knew what he meant: Katniss and Peeta. 

He saw her reflection rotate towards him, touched by his concern. “You could have told me about your family,” she whispered. “We work together. We could be friends, Haymitch.”

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He spun around and began walking to the door. 

“I know you try so hard to not care, to not get attached to anyone, ” she shouted across the room. “But I know you care about Katniss and Peeta.” He stopped. “I know that’s why you’re here.”

He changed his angle and headed into the kitchen, retrieving his bottle. “I almost forgot this,” he explained, lifting it for her to see. 

She sighed, and he left.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: rom-com chapter. This picks up right where the last one left off.

Effie rolled her eyes, then ran to the door and stuck her head out into the hallway. “Haymitch!” she called. “Haymitch!”

Finally he halted and turned back to look at her. 

“It’s late.” She shook her head. “Just stay here,” she insisted. “I don’t want to find out you woke up in a ditch. Katniss and Peeta deserve better than that.” 

Once she finished speaking, she wondered if she hadn’t tried too hard to excuse her invitation.

He hesitated, then acquiesced with a nod and headed back towards her apartment.

It wasn’t really that late, especially for the Capitol (which was probably the reason why the neighbors weren’t making any fuss about all of the yelling). Though, according to Effie’s regimented schedule, it probably was after hours. Who knew how early she had to wake up in order to get primped for her big, busy days. 

Effie smoothed out her nightshirt nervously. “You’ll be sleeping on the sofa,” she emphasized with stern eyes. “Or not sleeping, since you don’t sleep. Lying there and staring the ceiling. Whatever it is you do instead of sleeping.”

He looked her over and then laughed. Then he pushed past her and went inside. 

She frowned before closing the door behind them. She didn’t know what he found to be so funny. 

“You know, it’s customary to compliment a person on their residence when you visit.” Effie crossed her arms. 

“You’re right.” Haymitch nodded patronizingly. “Lovely rug. Is that silk?”

Effie snatched the bottle out of his hands. “And no more of this tonight.”

“On second thought I’ll just go back to my place,” he replied, trying to take back the alcohol. 

She held it behind her back, and - as she had suspected he would - he did not invade her personal space to retrieve it. He stepped back. 

“I know you think I’m a little uptight,” Effie began. 

“Effie, you’re the most uptight person that ever lived. Ever.” He seemed to think it a great joke.

Effie grinded her teeth. “But maybe I’m just looking out for you,” she finished. “And the rug,” she added. 

“What are you going to do? Take that to bed with you?” he kidded, pointing at the bottle.

She shrugged. “Maybe I will.”

His smile disappeared. “Really?”

“And don’t bother checking my cupboards: I don’t have anything,” she added. “Not even mouth wash.”

The bottle still in her hands, she strolled over to her closet and pulled out two blankets. “There are more here if you get cold.” She tossed them onto the sofa. “Good night, Haymitch.”

His eyes shifted towards her blank television screen. 

“You would get a phone call if something had happened to either of them,” Effie reminded him soothingly. “I told you; they’re sleeping.”

“Things happen at night in the arena. It’s not like your life, Effie.”

Effie blinked, unsure of the degree to which she should be offended. “Good night, Haymitch.”

0000000000

Normally she would leave her bedroom door open when she went to sleep, but tonight she closed it, glancing one last time at Haymitch settling in on the couch. He had spread the blankets and taken off his jacket. She hoped he didn’t take off too much. For a moment she wondered if she ought to have made it clear that sleeping on her couch in the nude was not acceptable. But surely even Haymitch had enough respect not to do that. 

It had been a long time since she had had an overnight guest. Probably a little too long. It was the last thing she wanted to be thinking about, but for some reason sleep wasn’t coming easily as she laid her head down on the pillow. She had always intended to be married by now. She met plenty of men. She didn’t have any excuses. 

Hardly in the mood for self-analysis and soul-searching, she groaned and rolled over. Haymitch’s bottle of white liquor was sitting on her nightstand. She was tempted to take a drink, speculating it might make her drowsy. But she left it. 

Haymitch heard her groan, and decided not to question what it had been about. 

He liked her apartment, and kicked himself for making that stupid joke about her rug instead of telling her something nice that also happened to true. He should have seized the rare opportunity to both tell the truth and be polite at the same time. 

He didn’t have a home here in the Capitol, for all the time he was forced to spend inside the city. He refused to lease an apartment as some of the Victors had done. He was willing to pay more for the impermanence of a hotel room. He felt no less comfortable on Effie’s couch than he would have been on his hotel room bed. Except for the fact that he could not stop thinking about ways in which he could have treated her better that day, and her being in the next room was not helping. He was not used to these feelings of regret. 

0000000000

The first thing Effie noticed was the ray of light through the open door running across her face. It blinded her for a second as she opened her eyes, disoriented. Even the minimal light turned Haymitch’s form into a silhouette. He froze, a few inches from the edge of her bed. 

Effie swallowed. “Haymitch…”

He coughed awkwardly. “It’s going to be a long night.”

She sat up as gracefully as she could, leaning back against her headboard. “I know,” she replied softly. 

The silence was excruciating. 

Haymitch leaned forward. Effie took a deep, nervous breath but made no move to shy away from him. He reached out his hand…and picked up his bottle from her nightstand. 

“I’m gonna need this,” he explained with a half-apologetic shrug, indicating the main room with a throw of his shoulder. 

“You’re here for that!” Effie screamed, outraged. 

“Of course I’m here for that. What else would I…? Oh…I see. You thought I came in here for you.” Haymitch laughed. Raucously. “That I wanted to…?” He doubled over he was laughing so hard. “You?”

Effie’s eyes bulged and her jaw dropped. She gathered the covers around her and pulled them up to her neck even though she was dressed no differently than earlier. “Is that so hard to believe?” she screeched. “I am young. I am pretty. I am much more attractive than you – I mean, maybe not…that is, once your were…nevermind!” She thought of the strong, handsome boy who had won the 50th Hunger Games, and the sad, rugged man she had seen as the mentor for the tributes from District 12 all these years. And she quickly tried to dismiss the thought, but it didn’t go away. It was only natural to have a certain attraction towards the Victors, she reasoned. They were smart and powerful and unyielding. Finnick Odair’s good looks weren’t the only reason he had women pouring all over him. She was just getting mixed up in her head – respect and admiration, that was what she felt. That was why she had thought he was going to kiss her and why she had been going to let him. 

Probably been going to let him, she amended to herself. 

Haymitch held his hands up defensively, but he was still laughing. “Easy now, sweetheart.” 

This only incensed her further: “You should be so lucky! I’m very pretty.”

“You already said that,” he responded wryly. He knew he had embarrassed her and it made him uncomfortable – he wasn’t sure what to say to her, and instead just kept making it worse. 

“Well, I am.”

“I agree,” Haymitch clarified, his laughter subsiding. 

“You do?” She melted at the compliment, and tried futilely to cling to her fury. 

“Especially like this.”

Effie ran her hand through her natural hair. “Like this, you mean?”

“No.” He smiled. “Angry.”

She seethed. “Oh get out!”

“No, I mean it. You’re very pretty when you’re angry. Maybe that’s why I try to be a constant frustration in your life.”

Softening, she even let a slight smile show. 

Out in the main room she could now detect the quiet murmur of the television. Of course he hadn’t been able to resist checking in. “Any news?”

“The girl from District 8 was killed about an hour ago.”

“Who killed her?”

“She was a victim of the alliance. It went down rather close to Katniss, but she remained hidden. But she knows Peeta is in with the tributes from Districs 1 and 2. She didn’t take it well.” Haymitch brow creased in worry. The last thing he wanted to see was Katniss killing Peeta because she couldn’t put 2 and 2 together. 

“What’s going on now?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“Have you slept at all?” Effie asked him, tilting her head. She had been tightly clenching her covers all this time; she gently released them and flexed her fingers. 

He didn’t answer the question, but responded instead to the earlier situation. “You and me, Effie…it just -“

“Don’t say another word, Haymitch, or I really will throw you from a train the next time we’re on one.”

Great, Haymitch thought. For once he was actually going to apologize and she wasn’t even going to let him. 

“Just take it,” she conceded, indicating his liquor with a nod of her head.

He’d forgotten all about it. 

0000000000

Haymitch had slept, and he’d not had nightmares. It was enough to make him reluctant to leave Effie’s apartment, but she was already almost out the door when she shook him awake. Hesitant to touch him, she’d chosen to rustle his legs, and he nearly kicked her reflexively. 

She said nothing, so she probably assumed it was leftover trauma from his Games, but in reality it had more to do with the rats that had infested his filthy house back in District 12. He didn’t correct her. 

She was already made up for the day in the gaudy Capitol colors and fashions. For the first time, underneath the make-up, he saw her real face. The powder and the wig didn’t annoy him quite as much anymore. Instead of seeing it he saw her. It was almost shocking for a moment. 

“Out you go,” Effie pushed. 

“But what about breakfast?” he inquired. Her hands were on his back, trying to force him towards the door, but he wasn’t giving her an inch. He could easily stand his ground against her under any circumstance, and with stilettos on the pressure she was exerting amounted to a light breeze. 

“I already ate breakfast.”

“We’re not going to eat together?” It was only after he said it that he realized how pathetic he sounded. 

“Yours is usually liquid, isn’t it? Perfect for on-the-go.” She dangled her keys to add a sense of urgency. 

“What are you in such a hurry for? Are you getting your nails done?”

“I have to visit my mother and help her take her medicine,” Effie revealed. She also had a new wig to pick up, but she kept this to herself. 

“Your mother is sick?”

“Yes.”

Haymitch sighed guiltily. “I didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t ask. Now, if you please…” Effie pointed to the door. “I would strongly advise you to go back to your room, shower, and shave.”


	5. Chapter Five

“She needs water, Haymitch!” Effie hissed into his ear. She didn’t want to appear worried in front of the sponsors or the teams for the other tributes, so she maintained an unnatural smile on her face. It was futile; everyone watching could see that Katniss was severely dehydrated and would be unable to help herself after a day or two more without liquids. The fact that the national broadcast was focusing on her made it all the more obvious that her circumstances were dire. Claudius Templesmith must be at lunch, or else he would be commenting on what was surely the beginning of Katniss Everdeen’s final hours. 

Haymitch’s brow was furrowed in concern, but he shook his head. “She’ll find it. She’s so close.”

Katniss’ inability to find water had gone from unfortunate, to troubling, to alarming. She would not die right away, but she was very close to being unable to search anymore. The Careers’ pack, with which Peeta was still tenuously ensconced, was not in the immediate vicinity, but it would not be long before it or any of the other surviving tributes found the weak and defenseless girl. 

Haymitch was showing a heretofore unheard of dedication, and while he continued to drink more in a day than she drank in an entire month, Effie was impressed with his attempts at lucidity. 

“She’ll find it,” he repeated, sounding less sure each time. 

Effie gritted her teeth and trusted him yet again. “All right.”

She and Haymitch had fallen back into old patterns after their confusing interaction at her apartment. It was difficult for her to look him in the eye, but she fought back the timidity and shame, and through concentrated effort, was able to treat him much as she had before. She noticed small changes on his part. He always acknowledged her when she walked in the room now, usually nodding in greeting. Sometimes he even turned to her during discussions with the stylists (Haymitch continued to rely on Cinna and Portia’s input), expecting her to share her opinion. He had never done that before. The so-called “grown up talk” had always excluded her just as much as the tributes, although Haymitch at least had let her stay to listen most of the time. But now she was trusted counsel. 

He never mentioned what had happened the night she let him sleep over in her apartment. Not the fact that she knew what had happened to his family, nor that she had humiliated herself thinking that he wanted her. 

He deserved a lot of credit for that. 

“What? That’s it?” Haymitch asked, turning towards her. “No more nagging?”

“Whatever you think is best.”

She didn’t like his appraising eyes, so she turned away. 

“She’ll find it,” Haymitch said again. 

Most of Panem would be viewing the Head Gamemaker’s version of the Games: a team of editors eliminated the unpatriotic material (there was always a tribute or two who felt like making a political speech), and assured the action was prioritized onscreen, with frequent recaps and analysis by Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman during slower moments. But at the Games Headquarters, there was constant feed of each living tribute for the benefit of the mentors and sponsors. 24/7 footage of Katniss and Peeta fed into two screens in the private viewing room for District 12, although sponsors and gamblers were free to wander in through the thick velvet curtains and check on their investments at any time. 

Seven times already since the Games had begun Effie had dragged Haymitch out of there and forced him to socialize. She made a point of doing it every time Seneca Crane came around to mingle. If the Head Gamemaker could be convinced that Panem would enjoy a Katniss win, he would be less likely to attack her in order to liven things up.

This time when Seneca Crane came around, Haymitch was already out and about. Katniss’ laborious trudging was on every screen the room was lined with, each heavy step flashing around like the lounge was some kind of morbid discotheque. Haymitch could only imagine how much worse it must have been during the bloodbath at the cornucopia, but he had never been in this room for that. For a reason. 

“Seneca!” Effie greeted warmly, waving the Head Gamemaker over.

He changed his trajectory immediately, smiling. “Effie,” he returned. “You look lovely today.”

She smiled modestly, touching her new wig with a hint of pride, and then stood, as was only polite. They kissed each on the cheek, a Capitol custom that Haymitch had always found very strange and fake, and then exchanged meaningless pleasantries. 

Haymitch rose resentfully after Effie made urgent eyes at him to stand. He and Seneca shook hands. 

“It doesn’t look like your girl is doing too well,” Seneca commented, although he took no particular pleasure in the observation. 

“She’ll be fine,” Haymitch replied brusquely. 

“I hope so. Death by dehydration isn’t particularly compelling.”

Effie agreed with him by nodding her head sympathetically, but Haymitch began to burn. “You’re right. Much better that she is bludgeoned to death with a brick. Maybe a hammer. There was a hammer in the cornucopia, wasn’t there?”

Seneca could not mistake his tone, but did not take umbrage. “I only meant that I’m sure you wouldn’t like to see her go down without a fight.”

“That girl is nothing but fight,” Haymitch declared ardently, taking a step forward.

He glanced at the screens, at the strength in Katniss’s eyes, behind her pale face and dry lips. 

Effie was beginning to realize that a Haymitch who wanted to be drinking and wasn’t drinking was a belligerent Haymitch. Her eyes widened. “Don’t mind him,” she murmured quickly to Seneca. “He’s a mean old brute on the best days, and, well, he’s very understandably worried about Katniss right now. I keep telling him this might be District 12’s year. We’d be so disappointed. Have you tried the shrimp?” She put her hand on the Head Gamemakers back and guided him over towards to refreshment’s table.

Haymitch sighed. He wondered if he ought to go over and apologize, but he just couldn’t stomach it. Effie would smooth it over. That’s why he needed Effie. She had some magic way of making everything that was wrong with him seem like it was OK. Like it was somehow acceptable. 

Effie didn’t say anything when she came back over, but her eyes were full of warning. 

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Let’s just save those blow ups for me, OK?” she interrupted. “Not the man pulling all the strings.”

“What did he say?”

“He liked the seasoning on the shrimp.”

Haymitch didn’t get a chance to respond to that because the room had gone silent, and all eyes were turned to the television. Katniss had stopped walking, and was leaning against a tree, waiting. 

“What did she say?” Haymitch demanded. 

“She asked for water,” Cinna informed quietly, crossing the room towards him.

Haymitch immediately headed for the replay station and had the moment shown again for him. Effie followed behind, hopping inelegantly in her high heels in order to keep up with his pace. 

Katniss said only the word “water”, her tone and voice surely much more desperate-sounding than she had intended. 

“Again,” Haymitch commanded. He watched the plea two more times.

“She’s asking me for help, and I won’t help her. She must hate me right now,” he sulked to Effie.

“Looks like it,” Effie commented, her gaze on the current feed. A very furious Katniss had given up on waiting for the parachute. “But she’s searching again. That’s good.” Effie put her hand on his shoulder. “She’ll find it.”

0000000000

Katniss found water later that day, and there was hugging and cheering from more than just the District 12 team. Effie knew that Haymitch would have sent water to Katniss if she truly been hours from death, but such an expenditure and failure would have surely endangered her chances later in the game. Still, she had to wipe away a tear at the happy turn of events. Effie was reminded of the Reaping when a laughing Haymitch tried to hug her, but she let him pull her into his strong arms this time. 

Katniss even had a few hours to drink her fill several times over, recover from the dehydration, and get in a few hours of sleep before the next disaster struck. 

Haymitch had been whispering in Effie’s ear all day that things were too slow, too boring, too non-confrontational. “Crane’s going to get involved,” he repeated more than once, frowning. Effie had no words of comfort – she knew he was right. Still, a part of her was happy. Haymitch had not told her this because she could help. There was nothing she could say to stop it. He told her because he didn’t want to deal with that information alone. When he told he was going to stay at the headquarters through the night, she knew she had to stay too. For him. 

Haymitch tried at first to convince her to go home, but she wasn’t having any of it.

They settled in on the sofa in the District 12 viewing room. It was more comfortable than the chairs out in the lounge, and the avoxes constantly cleaning and serving food were distracting. Effie did not know how long she would be there. Haymitch seemed to think that something would go down before it got too late and everyone had gone to bed. But an hour passed and still nothing had occurred. Katniss was asleep up in a tree, her cells hydrating. Peeta and the Alliance were staking out the river and setting up a makeshift camp. They had been consistently on the move, leaving one or two behind to guard the booty from the cornucopia in an advantageous spot by the lake. Unlike the rest of the tributes, they had the supplies to operate at night. All of the others were on their own, resting, slowly growing weaker from starvation. 

Effie began nodding off after two hours. Haymitch pulled off her shoes and gave her the length of the couch to stretch out. He summoned an avox and had him scrounge up a blanket and a pillow. Haymitch sat down on the floor. It reminded him of his childhood. At school there had often been a shortage of chairs, and at home, he used to sit on the stairs and watch his mother in the kitchen.

When Haymitch noticed himself drifting off, he turned up the volume on the television so that any event would be loud enough to wake him. He knew he should have told Effie right away that he was glad she had stayed with him. Would he have slept if he had been alone? Maybe he would have gotten drunk and passed out. But he wouldn’t have slept. 

In the end, it was Effie and not the television that woke him. 

Haymitch cursed, bringing his hands up to guard his head. She was pounding on it like a bongo drum and shouting his name. His head had been resting on the cushion beside Effie’s knees as she had slept, though she was sitting up now, her legs hanging off the edge beside him. He cracked his cricked neck and then looked at the screen. 

It was all yellow. He blinked and then focused. 

Fire.

Haymitch hopped to his feet, and he and Effie watched helplessly as Katniss ran from the conflagration and the fireballs. She coughed and eventually vomited from the smoke. Her jacket, hair, and pants all caught on fire, but the burn on her leg was clearly the worst. 

Effie held Haymitch’s hand through it all, but he didn’t seem to notice until Katniss was out of the fire zone. She squeezed. “She made it! Katniss made it!”

“That’s a serious burn,” Haymitch argued. 

“You said her mother was a healer.”

Haymitch considered this. “She’ll need medicine either way. Hopefully nothing more than an antibiotic salve. Even that will be expensive.”

“You’ll get it for her,” Effie assured him, squeezing his hand again. 

He lifted up his other hand and pinched her cheek, smiling. “Optimism.”

She would have thought he was being condescending, but his smile was genuine. 

“That Seneca!” she accused, disgusted. “Well that’s the last time I show him to the good appetizers.”

Haymitch scratched his chin thoughtfully, but he wasn’t thinking about what she had said. He was worried about what he had said to Seneca Crane earlier that day, and whether his surliness had been a factor in the attack against Katniss. It had certainly seemed like she had been targeted specifically. “Was this because of me?” he asked her vulnerably. 

Handing his bad thoughts over to Effie was beginning to be an addictive habit. 

He had walked right out of her apartment when she tried to get him to open up, but it seemed that, nevertheless, he told her almost everything now. 

“Because of your temper?” Effie shook her head. “No. Not at all. You said it yourself – the Games has been slow. And the map showed that Katniss was nearly at the edge of the arena - much further from the other tributes; they needed to drive her back towards the center. What you said to him, more than anything, should have reinforced what the gamemakers learned about Katniss during her evaluation – that she’s a fighter.” Effie laughed, thinking again of drunk Haymitch at the Reaping: “That she’s got spunk.” 

Katniss had found a pond and was soaking her injuries. The footage cut away to the other tributes occasionally, but Katniss was the most hurt, so the editor often chose to stay with her. Claudius Templesmith described how close the tributes were to each other, and showed them as dots on a map of the entire arena. Most of them were on converging paths, though by early afternoon there had yet to be any confrontations. 

Effie slipped away as soon as she could to groom herself and make her daily trip to see her mother. Her make-up had smudged during the night to the point that she didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror. She hid in the darkness of the private viewing room until there was a distraction and then she snuck away. 

Nothing had changed when she returned, but that did not last. The Careers’ alliance encountered Katniss before the day was through. She scrambled up a tree, safe momentarily thanks to poor aim and Peeta’s convincing nature. Effie knew she and Haymitch were in for another stressful night. She thought about inviting him back to her apartment again, but she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, and there was little chance he would leave the Games Headquarters in case Katniss needed a gift immediately. 

It was only when Katniss was settling in for the night that they were able to real a picture of just how seriously injured she was. Haymitch had hoped some of the blisters would soften and pop while she had been soaking her leg and the swelling would go down, but it was obvious 16 hours later that the wound would not be OK if left untreated, and Katniss’ pain was unbearable to watch. She tried to hide it, but Haymitch could tell she was suffering. 

He had advised some of Katniss’ potential benefactors that he might be sending her some medicine later that day. He had already lined them up and chosen the healing balm. But he wanted to wait until she had settled in for the night. The medicine was expensive and could not be wasted. It wouldn’t do for her to sweat it off while running, or for it to wash or rub off if she fell. It would be most effective while she slept, her hands and leg unmoving. 

Effie clapped excitedly while she watched the parachute drop, and again when the screen showed Katniss’ face as she saw her gift. 

“Oh Haymitch,” Katniss whispered. “Thank you.”

Haymitch was beaming but he tried to hide it. Effie happily hung on his arm, wrapping herself around it. It seemed natural at the time. It was only later when she detached herself and went to use the bathroom that she realized it had been rather forward on her part. Not intimate, exactly, but overly familiar. She wondered if he might treat her differently when she returned, but he was focused on the next problem at hand: five Careers, Peeta, and Katniss up in a tree. 

It was getting late, and most of the sponsors had gone home. A few of the mentors remained – Cashmere and Gloss from District 1 and Brutus and Enobaria from District 2 had not left the headquarters. They were huddled up with Finnick, watching out for their Career tributes in case something went down during the night. Rue’s mentor, Seeder, had stuck around long enough to see Rue put some distance between herself and the cluster, and then he had departed. 

The Careers’ mentors occasionally glanced over at Haymitch. They clearly thought Katniss was a lost cause even with the promise of the tracker jacker nest. They couldn’t understand why he wasn’t with them, supporting Peeta. A fed-up Haymitch finally grabbed Effie’s arm and dragged her back into the private viewing room. 

“If we’re going to be in here so much, I might redecorate,” she stated. 

His thoughts were elsewhere, but the idea was so ridiculous that he had to say so. 

But she was smiling. “Only kidding,” she said. 

He smiled back at her. Now Effie made jokes. He had known her all these years, and not really known her at all. He was almost certain that it was his fault. Just like with the make-up and wig, he had never tried to see beyond what was most apparent about her. 

“Although, it could maybe use another blanket,” she amended, running her fingers over the light throw the avox had brought for her the night before. 

Haymitch recalled her winterish pajamas. “You get cold a lot, don’t you?”

“I suppose.”

You just need someone warm beside you, he thought to himself. He had almost said it aloud, a thought that frightened him so much he left in order to get himself a drink.

Effie may have been joking about redecorating, but that did not mean she wasn’t going to nest there. Anticipating another full night, she had removed her shoes and her wig. And, he suspected, loosened some of the fasteners on her dress. She lounged comfortably on the sofa but did not recline, leaving room for him. 

“Aren’t you afraid someone will see you like this?” Haymitch teased.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the way I look right now?” She shook her blonde hair out. “If you don’t think I look pretty enough, maybe I should get angry about something.”

Effie regretted the words the second she had spoken them. She had firmly intended to never mention that conversation again. The last thing she wanted to do was remind him of that night and her humiliating misunderstanding. 

She couldn’t stand the thought that he was under the impression she wanted him.

“That won’t be necessary. Although…” Haymitch did not finish. He stepped outside and made a request that Effie could not hear. 

“Although what?” she snapped when her returned.

An avox quickly returned with a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth. 

“We can’t have you looking like you did this morning,” Haymitch gibed. “And I think you ruined the pillow.” He pointed at the white pillow she had used the night before; it was smeared with lipstick and green powder.

“That’ll come out,” she declared nonchalantly, and unconvincingly. 

Haymitch bent down onto his knees. The sofa was low, so even on his knees they were of an equal height. He cautiously lifted the dampened wash cloth up to her face. This took her aback. He had set the bowl of water down on the small table beside the sofa, so she had assumed he meant for her to clean herself off. She couldn’t believe he wanted to do it himself. He hesitated until she nodded, giving him permission to continue. 

He placed one hand flat over her ear, his fingers stretching up her temple and down beneath her chin, holding her head in place gently while he took the wash cloth to her cheek. The poor-quality material was rough on her skin, but it meant that scrubbing wasn’t necessary, and the movement of his hand was more like a caress than an abrasion. 

It took her a few minutes to gather the courage to directly meet his eyes. They had never been this physically close before. This intimate. And after the other night…Well it wouldn’t do for her heart to race, or for her to blush, or for her to tremble. 

But she was doing all three anyway. 

She swallowed, and felt the warmth of his hand tingling on her face, tendrils of sensation stretching out until his touch was all that she was aware of.

Once she let her eyes meet his they became caught. As they stared at each other she did not even notice that he had stopped wiping her cheek. 

Effie wasn’t sure what he was thinking…until he suddenly threw the washcloth into the corner and yanked her into a passionate kiss, half of her make-up still caked on. 

At first her eyes popped in surprise. Of course Haymitch wouldn’t bother with that moment when their lips were slowly and inevitably drawn together, or with building up the intensity of the embrace by starting with a light liplock. Probably wastes of time in his book. Better to just get right to it. She wouldn’t have thought she agreed, but in this case she definitely did.

She felt him snake his arms up her back and cross them, pulling her impossibly closer in a vice she could never escape from. He crawled onto the sofa beside her in one quick, fluid movement without ever letting go of her. Then he eased her backwards against the vertical cushions. 

She kissed him back. She wanted to. It was all she wanted. 

And it was about to become more than just a kiss when shouting in the main room caused Haymitch to break away from her, leaving her breathless and confused. He whipped around to look at the television, dropping his arms from her completely. 

Glimmer and Clove were at each other’s throats, shouting and about to bring weapons into their spat. Cato stepped fearlessly between them and pushed them apart. Marvel was laughing. Peeta, probably afraid of wayward flying knives, was inching behind a nearby tree. There was even a reaction shot of Katniss, her strategic eyes hoping it would end in bloodshed. 

“Stop this right now,” Cato commanded, mostly turned toward the girl not from his district. 

“I don’t take orders from you, Cato. You’re not in charge,” Glimmer hissed. Then she instantly calmed, laughed, and returned to her flirty self. “We’re a team.”

Clove rolled her eyes at Glimmer and then stepped in front of Cato, eager that it shouldn’t appear he was protecting her. “Not for long.” She narrowed her eyes and fingered the knife she never let go of.

“Enough!” Cato reiterated. “There’ll be plenty of time to fight amongst ourselves later.”

“Don’t stop them!” Marvel hollered. 

Disgusted that he was finding it sexy, Clove backed off, and the tension fizzled. She and Cato exchanged a look before they all returned to their tasks. 

“Damn!” Haymitch whispered angrily. He swiveled to Effie. “They almost turned on each other. At least it appears they will be camping out right beneath Katniss’ tree.”

Effie was still panting a little. She spread her arms subtly, hopeful he would return, but his mind was back on the Games: “If she manages to drop the nest on them, at least two of them will probably get away. If they’re smart they’ll run for the water. It’s not far.” He played out the scenarios in his head.

“Haymitch!” Effie shouted, exasperated. 

“What?” He winced at the shrillness of her voice. 

“What do you mean ‘what?’!” she cried, even more exasperated. Effie gestured at her face, intending to indicate the kiss by drawing attention to her lips, but he all he noticed was her make-up.

“Oh.” He grabbed the wash cloth from where it had landed on the floor and handed it to her. “You’re right. Better fix that.”

She propelled the wet cloth at him as hard as she could. “Are you really going to pretend like that didn’t just happen?”

Haymitch grimaced: “Effie…”

“That is so…RUDE!” She hopped furiously to her feet, grabbed her things, slipped her shoes back on, gave him a vigorous kick to the leg, and declared that she would see him in the morning. “I don’t know about District 12,” she added, “but in the Capitol we have better manners.”

“In the Capitol you pit children against each other in a fight to the death!” Haymitch roared in her ear. The pain from her kick to his shin had ignited his aggression. He was mad at himself for kissing her, and for liking it. A lot. He hated that she was leaving, and that it was his fault. And the fact that he seriously needed a drink was only exacerbating the problem. 

“Well if people from the Capitol are so bad, I’m sure you’ll do just fine tonight without me,” Effie shot back, keeping her voice as low as she could.

He knew he wouldn’t do just fine without her. He never slept as well as he did when she was around. She made him feel a kind of peace he didn’t think he could feel anymore. She took the spark of hope Katniss had put in him and fueled it, like kerosene on dying embers, warming him up inside, reanimating the dead parts. Katniss and Peeta had taught him that something in this world still mattered, and Effie felt like the tangible proof of that. 

But he didn’t let himself think about that; he was already endangering her with this conversation. He knew he was flirting with treason, but he couldn’t stop. “I don’t need anyone from the Capitol,” he stated defiantly. “I don’t want anything to do with any of you.”

“Like I want to be with a man from District 12?” Effie laughed forcedly. “And have children who eat squirrel with their hands, and smell like coal and dirt.” She shuddered. 

“You don’t know anything about District 12,” Haymitch said darkly. “You don’t anything about anything. But go ahead. Live this delusional, narcotized, pampered, complicit life free of worry and pain and responsibility.”

Effie glared at him and then stormed away.


	6. Six

She left the television on that night and slept in her living room. 

Her apartment felt kind of lonely. 

She tried not to think of Haymitch. But all she could think of was him at Games Headquarters, watching exactly what she was watching. And hopefully thinking what she was thinking – that there had been something of magic to the kiss, and that what had been said should not have been said, by either of them. 

A couple of times she thought about going back. For Katniss and Peeta, she told herself. 

Katniss had fallen asleep up in the tree – a small wonder. The Careers were resting on the ground beneath her in relative comfort thanks to the supplies they had collected at the cornucopia. Peeta was off a small distance so that he had a better view of Katniss, and probably because he didn’t want to be unconscious next to so many armed and bloodthirsty peers. 

The broadcast focused on him during the night, his protective, watchful eyes on Katniss until he finally succumbed to exhaustion. The star-crossed lovers of District 12 had a bout of intense staring earlier, but for the most part Katniss looked at everything but him. Long after all of the others had fallen asleep, Peeta was still gazing up through the branches at her, his face an unreadable mix of vast emotions. 

Effie knew this was good. Seneca Crane directed what was shown onscreen, and he was embracing the love story as much as the audience seemed to be.

Though no one was embracing it as much as poor Peeta. 

She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. For a brief second, the inadequacy of her ability to empathize with him was overwhelming. 

Eventually Effie fell asleep as well, but it was fitful night, full of disquieting dreams of Haymitch, Peeta, and her mother. 

0000000000

The excitement of Katniss sending the tracker jacker bomb down on the Careers and the deaths of the female tributes from District 1 and District 4 went down before Effie woke up for the day, but she caught a recap while she ate breakfast. Everyone who had survived was in poor shape – no one had escaped without at least a few stings, not even Katniss. But she had her bow now, and was resting. Resting hadn’t exactly been her choice – it appeared more that she had fainted. But her position was sufficiently secure, especially considering the pack would be unable to hunt her until they recovered themselves. Rue and the female tribute from District 5 were in her vicinity, but they were not offensive players. And most of the other tributes were on the far side of the arena, including the main non-Career threat, Thresh. All in all it was bound to be a day of respite.

Effie readied herself for the day. She had slept in, took a long shower, and was now applying her lipstick at a snail’s pace. She knew she was only trying to delay the inevitable – seeing Haymitch again. 

The trip on the commuter train to her mother’s house was short. (Too short, really, Effie complained to herself.) Compared to the poverty and squalor of the Seam it was luxurious accommodations, but the Trinkets were not considered an affluent family in the Capitol. 

Effie frowned at the dying and unkept garden as she walked up the cement path. She unlocked the bright yellow front door with her own key and immediately began opening the shutters once inside. The house at least was well-maintained; Effie paid a neighbor to clean and keep up with the handy work. 

Effie’s mother, wrapped in a blanket, drifted in from the next room. She was a sad mockery of the Capitol fashions, her neon pink wig doing little to disguise the fact that her hair had fallen out. Pale skin hung over her bones, unhelped by brightly-colored cosmetics. But she smiled to see her daughter, and was not too weak for a firm hug. 

“Have you been watching the Games, Mother?” Effie conversed as she cleared some dishes from the room. “Quite a lot of excitement yesterday and this morning.”

“Sorry, Dear. I’ve been reading.” She pointed at a stack of ancient books on her desk. “Sometimes I think the only part of me that still works is my eyes.”

“Don’t feel bad. I’m starting to understand why you’ve never really enjoyed them. They used to be fun. But ever since I became an escort, and especially this year…” Effie didn’t finish.

“Is that why you’re so down?” her mother asked cannily. “I think this is the first time you’ve come over and not sung something.” Her mother didn’t seem to think this was a bad development. 

Effie pulled out a case from the desk and prepared a syringe. “Sort of.” She sat next to her mother at the dining room table.

“Go on. It’ll be distracting.”

Effie sighed as she swabbed an area on her mother’s arm. “It’s just…He’s impossible.” She didn’t have to explain who she meant – her mother had heard enough on the subject already to make the leap. Effie completed the injection and then put away the kit. “He’s just so…damaged. There’s something between us,” she took a deep breath, “but he doesn’t want it. It’s infuriating.”

“Do you want it?”

Effie tittered. “Certainly not.”

“Don’t bullshit your dying mother, dear.”

“You’re not going to die,” Effie contradicted automatically. She made a very pained look as she sorted through her thoughts, as if she found them distasteful, before reluctantly admitting to the truth: “I must,” she whined. “I must want it. I wouldn’t feel this way if I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter. It’s a very bad idea. Just very, very bad.”

It was then that Effie looked out the window, and saw Haymitch walking up the path. She wanted to run to the window and close the curtains, but he had already spied her and waved mischievously. 

Effie mewed nervously, and then slowly made her way to the door. Before the cheerful tune of the doorbell was done playing Effie had flung it open. “What are you doing here, Haymitch?” she demanded. “How do you know where my mother lives? No, tell me later. Just go.”

“I followed you,” he confessed. “I waited outside your apartment for you to leave and I followed you here.”

Effie gaped. “Why would you do that?”

Effie’s mother came up behind her, smiling. 

“Because I wanted to meet your mother,” Haymitch answered, a bit playful. He extended his hand to the frail woman and they shook. 

“Who is this?” Effie’s mother asked. “The postman? He’s very well-dressed for the postman.”

Effie looked at her mother with a trace of concern. “Mother, this is Haymitch Abernathy. You don’t recognize him? He’s a Victor.” All Victors, and especially the mentors, were frequently on TV. They were household names. It was impossible to be more of a celebrity in Panem. They gathered annually for televised parties during and after the Games, and past Hunger Games were often re-aired on television. Mentors gave interviews during the training and the games in addition to being present at the Reapings.

“Oh, your boyfriend,” she replied knowingly. 

Effie put her palm to her face. “Not my boyfriend, Mother. He’s not my boyfriend. I never told her you were my boyfriend,” Effie assured him quickly. 

Haymitch was laughing. 

“Why don’t you start some tea,” Effie suggested, urging her mother towards the kitchen. She turned to Haymitch. “Why did you really come here?”

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked gently, ignoring her interrogation.

“A brain tumor. It’s inoperable,” Effie informed him, her voice thick with tears she fought to keep at bay. “She has some problems with memory and her senses. Her prognosis isn’t good.” Effie reined her emotions in. “Even in the Capitol we lose people we love,” she slung at him, her tone tinged with indignation. 

He could tell she didn’t want to discuss her mother’s illness any further. “Is your father here?”

“My father left when I was a baby.” 

Another sore subject. “I’m sorry.” No wonder Effie had stormed out after he accused her of living a life free of worry and pain. 

He let himself inside, and backed Effie benignly against a wall so that she could not escape his speech, closing the front door behind him. “I really did come here to meet your mother. Because I wanted to apologize to you for what I said, and I couldn’t think of a better way. I made it sound like I didn’t think you were a person because you’re from the Capitol. So I thought what better way to for you to prove me wrong than for me to come here.” 

Effie’s brow furrowed, too cautious now to believe him without taking a moment to think. “You hate me.”

“No. Not you.” It would be easier if I did, he thought. 

“I’m from here. I can’t change that,” Effie stated simply. “It’s me. It’s who I am.”

“No. You’re more than that.”

Her lips parted slightly in surprised pleasure. 

He had projected all of his anger on to her because that was the easiest, simplest thing for him to feel. He couldn’t tell her that. But it seemed that she had figured it out. 

“I’m sorry, too,” she apologized.

Haymitch shook his head. “No. Don’t. We both said wrong things, but you had every right to be angry with me. I…didn’t handle the situation well. Everything was my fault.”

After recovering from her shock at his blanket apology, she decided that she didn’t think his description of their kiss as a “situation” boded well, but she didn’t dwell on it. “No, I shouldn’t have gotten angry in the first place. You were just trying to watch out for Katniss and Peeta. Of course they have to be the priority. And I never should have said that about District 12. It wasn’t right. And I didn’t mean it.” And truly she didn’t. An aversion to “outlanders” had been inculcated in her from an early age, but she liked Haymitch (well, mostly) and Katniss (eventually), and Peeta, and all of the tributes she had escorted. (Except for that young man three years ago. But even she couldn’t like everyone.) 

“So you actually do want those kids?” Haymitch baited. 

Effie’s eyes widened. “What kids?”

“Those dirty kids from District 12 with the bad table manners. It sounds like they take after me.” He winked at her. 

“No no no no,” Effie sputtered quickly. “Those are hypothetical kids, with a hypothetical father from District 12 that is not you. It was all very hypothetical.”

“I’m sure it was,” he responded skeptically. He glanced around the house. “Did you grow up here?”

She nodded. “It’s not much.”

Haymitch was pretty sure it was nicer than the houses in Victor’s Village in District 12, but he kept that to himself. 

He thought about little Effie Trinket. As cheerful as she was now, he could only imagine her bouncing off the walls as a child. An optimistic, giggling little girl with blonde pigtails and dresses that were too big for her. (Although he appreciated the fact that she now wore dresses that were almost a little too small.)

And then he thought about what Effie had said right before the Games began, and he pictured a six year old her sitting down in front of the television and watching him in the Quarter Quell. He wondered how she felt when he won, and what she’d thought of him. His silent protest against the establishment had always been to take no pride in his victory. But he found himself hoping little Effie Trinket had been impressed. 

Effie’s mother announced that the tea was ready, but Effie stopped him before he could enter the kitchen. She didn’t speak at first, vexed confusion sketched across her face. She tried to start a sentence once or twice and stalled. And then she finally surrendered her thoughts: “I should tell you…that is…I do think that, maybe, some of what you’ve said about the Capitol and President Snow might be right.” An afflicted frown took over her expression. 

Haymitch laid his finger on her lips. “Shhhhhh.”

Her heart fluttered at his touch. “But…”

He shook his head. “I told you: I want you to be safe.”

“But…” But I want you to know that I’m not what you think I am. Not anymore, Effie cried inside her head. 

Pushing her into the kitchen with her mother, he wouldn’t let her speak anymore, and all thoughts of politics were lost by both of them to the sensation of his hands on her waist. 

Haymitch stayed for tea, and then he and Effie headed back to Games Headquarters.


	7. Seven

Effie never would have wished harm on Katniss or Peeta, but some more action in the arena would have been a welcome distraction. A welcome discussion topic at the very least. Her fight with Haymitch had lasted less than 12 hours, but it had felt like an eternity. Every minute had been full of anger and fear and regret. Those kind of minutes passed slowly. Clearing the air had been such a weight off her shoulders…or so she had thought. But conversation faltered awkwardly between them now, and she almost longed for their barbed exchanges. The truth was that she had enjoyed being on good terms with him so much that she had decided not to force a discussion about the kiss. She just wanted to enjoy the harmony. But that also meant there was this silent mountain between them. A taboo subject that strained every conversation. And a falseness. Because she could pretend like the kiss hadn’t mattered, but that’s all it was – pretend. 

And as much as Haymitch seemed to want to pretend that it was nothing and ignore it, his behavior dictated a different opinion. He was careful not to touch her. He avoided being alone with her when he could. And he danced around any topics that might lead to places he didn’t want to go to. 

It was as if his visit to her mother’s and his apology had, instead of repaired their relationship, demolished it, erasing everything. 

At first it had been pleasant. The civil side of Haymitch. Excessive politeness and consideration. He even offered to bring her beverages and hors d’oeuvres. He didn’t nettle her about her clothing, laugh at her ideas, or frown at her comments as he used to. 

And then it began to feel cold. 

And then she knew for certain that she would rather be insulted by Haymitch than ignored. He had begun to treat her like he treated everyone else, and that was the worst of all. Because even when he seemed to despise her, she had always felt special at the very least. He may have considered her a thorn in his side, but she had been to him, she knew, a very particular thorn. 

Of course he had a job to do – they both did. A responsibility to Peeta and Katniss. So she tried to be supportive and not distracting, and left the issue untouched. 

Several days passed. The remaining Careers, Katniss, and Peeta had all recovered from their tracker jacker stings, though Katniss much more quickly with the herbal help of Rue. Peeta’s wound from Cato was only growing worse, though all things considered he was doing all right by the river, with a constant supply of water and an adequate stash of food in his backpack from his time in the Alliance. He was in no condition to move, but it seemed that he would be able to hide. 

Effie had been derisive of Katniss’ choice to team up with Rue. A sweet girl, certainly, but hardly a mighty ally. Haymitch, dismal and weary, had agreed that it was a bad decision. “But not for the reasons you think,” he had said. “Clearly Rue can be trusted. She has useful knowledge of the forest. And she’s survived all this time. It isn’t that.” He took a deep breath. “It’s because Katniss will become attached to her. Look at her, she already is. When Rue dies…and she will die, they all die…it’s going to wreck her. Katniss is already going through enough.”

And Effie had remembered back to Haymitch’s Games, and Maysilee Donner, and she remembered that he knew what it was like to lose an ally in the Games. 

And Effie had to watch as Haymitch’s prediction came true, and Rue was slain, and a heartbroken Katniss avenged her, then sang her to sleep, and then covered her dead body in flowers. And it was almost as hard on Haymitch, because it was as if he were looking back on his younger self, and knew what sadness was in store for Katniss’ future. 

“You’re crying,” he had told Effie plainly after the hovercraft came for Rue’s body and the spell tying everyone’s gaze to the screen was broken. 

“So?” she had answered him. “Of course I’m crying.” Effie could still hear Katniss’ song in her head, tragic and beautiful. She could still see the little girl, so pale and still in death, enshrouded in wildflowers. 

It was then that Seeder, Rue’s mentor, had come over and taken Haymitch away. Effie had dried her eyes and fixed her make up in the bathroom, and when she had returned, she saw that District 11 had sent Katniss a gift of bread. 

“Snow is not going to like this,” Haymitch whispered to her, momentarily forgetting himself. He was afraid. “It’s supposed to be fun. Katniss has made it sad. And a little too dignified.”

“It’s going to be so much worse when Peeta dies,” Effie lamented. Tears threatened her eyes again. 

“Yes…” Haymitch replied thoughtfully. “It will.” He chewed on his lip, pondering what she had said. 

“If only I could know ahead of time,” she continued. “I wouldn’t put any make-up on. I would just stay at home and weep.” Effie hung her head. “He really does love her. He’s not pretending.” She thought of the night he spent watching her up in the tree, and the possibly-fatal wound he took in order to help her escape from Cato. 

“I know.” Haymitch sighed. 

“She doesn’t love him.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Haymitch was quick to respond. “She’s just got other things to think about.”

While Effie tackled that thought, Haymitch headed down to the control room. Mentors weren’t allowed inside, so he waited in the lobby. 

Haymitch didn’t share his plan with Effie. He didn’t want to get her hopes up in case he failed. If that happened, it would have been better to never have known. 

After 30 minutes of waiting he was joined by Seneca Crane. The Head Gamemaker was visibly shaken. Haymitch jumped to the conclusion that he was recently off the phone with the president. He pulled a flask of white liquor out of his jacket and let Seneca take a long drink. 

“Now just hear me out…”

0000000000

Haymitch spent the rest of the evening biting his finger nails and drinking. After outright laughing at his idea for a rule change allowing for two Victors, Seneca Crane had actually been receptive to its possibilities once Haymitch had made several strong points – how Panem cared about the love story, how it was better to give them something to root for, how such a result would not damage the overall image of the Hunger Games, but rather save it. 

That’s all Haymitch had been able to do – make a suggestion. The rest was up to the gamemakers, and probably the president as well. 

And now he felt powerless again while he waited. 

It got dark. He and Effie watched as Katniss settled in for the night and fell asleep, numbed. She needed something to root for as much as anyone. He wished Katniss would look for Peeta. Depending on how bad his injury was – and there was no way for Haymitch to tell, because Peeta never uncovered it – Katniss might be able to help him. And she would help him, even if there could only be one Victor. But if she couldn’t save him, at least he wouldn’t have to die alone. It would take an emotional toil on Katniss. But Peeta shouldn’t have to die that slow death all by himself. 

Or maybe Haymitch was rooting for the love story as hard as anyone. 

There were only six tributes now: Cato and Clove, Peeta and Katniss, Thresh, and the girl from District 5. The interviews for the top eight had been conducted the day before, but Rue and Marvel had died before they could air. The specials were on now, just in time for the citizens in the Districts to watch after getting home from work. 

Effie was having a noticeably emotional reaction to the interviews with Primrose, Mrs. Everdeen, and Mr. and Mrs. Mellark. 

“Go in there if you’re going to do that,” Haymitch barked, pointing at the private viewing room. 

“Our tributes never make it to the top 8,” Effie said, as if to explain. Maybe she would have cried every time. She never had to see their parents. She didn’t know the families like Haymitch did. District 12 was small. Haymitch could recognize almost everyone. He had been born in the Seam, but now he lived in town. That meant he had crossed paths with the entire population at one time or another.

“What if someone sees you? It wouldn’t be good.”

Effie nodded and rose to her feet. She knew she could stem the tears if she really tried, but she felt like crying. She didn’t understand how everyone could stay so straight-faced. She rushed through the curtains and disappeared from sight. 

Haymitch asked Portia to go in there with her, and Cinna sat down next to him. 

“Can you imagine if it had been her?” Cinna asked, indicating Primrose Everdeen’s face on the television screen with a toss of his shoulder. 

Haymitch didn’t want to imagine that. 

“Did you hear what they’ve been saying?”

Rumors of political unrest had circulated furtively that evening - rioting in District 11 after Rue’s death and Katniss’ funereal send off for her. 

Haymitch nodded. “I heard.” Seeder had been the first to tell him, while they arranged for the gift of bread. “We all need to be very careful.”

“That’s why you sent Effie away.”

“She’s been like a black cloud today, always threatening rain.” And a crying Effie upset him. He could see that now. It had been gratifying for him to see the depth of her attachment to Katniss and Peeta – he couldn’t help but like how fond she was of them, being regrettably fond of them himself – but he hadn’t realized exactly what Effie’s emotional side entailed. It was taxing on him seeing her so upset so regularly. 

“I underestimated Effie,” Cinna admitted. “She comes off so…But she really does care. I should have seen that.” Cinna was good at reading people, so he felt that much worse for being mistaken in Effie. He had seen right through Haymitch from the start. 

“You’ll watch out for her, won’t you? When I can’t. Make sure she keeps her mouth shut. She’s starting to get some dangerous ideas. I’m a bad influence.”

Cinna nodded gravely, taking the responsibility seriously. “I will.”

Haymitch felt an iota of relief. 

“Are you going to send any medicine to Peeta?” Cinna questioned quietly. “Portia was wondering. She didn’t want to ask.”

“You could have told her no. I’m sure you realize I can’t do that. Peeta was right: no one thinks he can win.” 

“He got an 8.”

“That was before they knew he was in love. He nearly died saving Katniss. No one is going to waste any money on him.”

Haymitch knew he didn’t need to explain to Cinna that he wished he could send Peeta the medicine. That he wished Peeta could win too. 

Thinking about Peeta dying only made Haymitch angry. He told Cinna he was getting some air, and he proceeded to drink heavily out on the roof. 

Effie joined him after a while. He didn’t know how long it had been. The moon was full, illuminating Effie’s face. But he hadn’t been tracking its progress. 

“It’s cold; you should go inside,” he told her. That only reminded him of other times when he had thought about her being cold. In her apartment. Or the night they kissed, when she wanted another blanket. This was why it was better if he didn’t talk to her at all. Why he was trying to get her to leave him alone. 

“I may not have liquor to keep me warm but I’ll be all right,” she replied stubbornly. 

That snatched a smile out of him. 

“It’s a very pretty night,” she offered lamely. 

Haymitch snorted. “That’s some pathetic small talk there.”

“Well, it is lovely. There’s the moon. And the skyline. You don’t care for the skyline?”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t impress me. Even after all these years.”

“It’s customary for this conversation about the beauty of the night to now become a metaphor for my beauty. That’s the way these rooftop discussions tend to go.” 

“You and your quaint Capitol customs.” Haymitch shook his head at her affectionately. “I already told you that you were pretty once. If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it. Right now I’d tell Seneca Crane he outshines the sun. But I don’t use my false flattery on you. So you can know that when I told you that you were pretty, it was the truth.”

“Then I should treasure the one compliment you begrudged me,” Effie returned with an edge of anger.

“If you were listening carefully that was another one.”

She hadn’t intended to come out here and start anything. She just wanted to check on him. He had been perturbed for the past several hours – much more so than usual. But she should have known that any conversation between them that wasn’t about food or directly related to the Games would inevitably come around to what was left unspoken between them. 

“I thought you might come to check on me,” Effie complained. 

“Check on you? It’s not as if you were going to die from crying,” Haymitch pointed out.

“Well, no, but-”

“And I sent Portia to be with you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but-”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I may be losing this argument, but I think we both know what the problem is.” She tapped the railing agitatedly. 

“I take it there’s something on your mind?” he surmised dryly. 

“The only thing on my mind is that there should be something on your mind but you’re acting like there isn’t!” she shrieked.

He took a few steps towards her. He should have changed the subject but he couldn’t resist riling her up: “I’ve got you a little hot and bothered, haven’t I?”

Effie hit him in the chest. “I’m quite in control of myself, thank you.”

“Is that right? Picturing our kids…”

“I told you! You weren’t the father! And don’t you know what hypothetical means? You went to school, didn’t you?”

“Who was it, then?”

Effie tried to think of men she knew from District 12. The only one she could think of right away was Mr. Mellark from the interviews she had just watched. “Peeta’s father.”

“The baker?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “It’s time you knew: I’m in love with the baker.”

“Well, OK then. That explains that. But what about you telling your mother all about me?”

“I was merely griping about an obnoxious coworker.”

“And what about you kissing said obnoxious coworker?”

“You kissed me!” she cried. 

He laughed. “I felt your hand reaching for my-”

Effie stuck out her hand to hit him again, but he caught her fist. “You’re a silly girl,” he said to her. “You don’t want me. Not really. You think you would be happy with me, Effie? Drunk, mean, old me? Save your exciting romance for someone who isn’t going to break your heart or get you killed.”

She ripped her hand out of his grasp. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I may be from the Capitol but I am still a grown woman.” She straightened her back. “Do you really think that if I were arranging some exciting romance for myself that I would pick you? I’ve had plenty of time to pick someone. I’ve been waiting for something else.” 

Haymitch didn’t take her insult to heart. “Don’t get angry, Effie. I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re patronizing me.”

“I’m older than you. And I’ve seen more of life. A lot more.”

“Ah yes, wise old Haymitch. Well until you’ve seen the inside of my heart I think you can shut up,” she shot back. And because it was impolite to leave without words of farewell, she added: “I will see you tomorrow!” And in a huff, she left. 

But she smiled as she commuted back to her apartment. She really did like fighting with him better than polite, meaningless interactions. And for the first time since he had shaken up her life with his visit to her apartment, she felt completely like herself again. It was still all there – the political questioning, the doubt, the building sense of injustice – but she had repossessed a part of herself that had spent the past week caught in a whirlwind of humiliation and longing. 

After all, Haymitch had avoided saying the one thing that would have shut her down easily and completely – that he had no interest in her, that he didn’t want her, that he had no feelings for her. And why not say that? Unless it wasn’t true.


	8. Eight

Katniss was lethargic the next day. Even after she woke it was hours before she descended from her tree. She hunted, and traveled a short distance. It was an uneventful day for her and all of the tributes. 

“Will Seneca Crane try and mix things up again?” Effie asked Haymitch as dusk was approaching. 

Their conversation the night before had changed very little between them as far as she could tell. There were a few times during the day when they had found themselves alone, and it seemed almost as if he were going to speak, but he never did. His mind was elsewhere, although it had been a quiet day for the Games. 

“It’s likely,” Haymitch conceded. “If tomorrow is slow again he’ll almost certainly intervene.” Of course he hoped Seneca Crane was planning to change things up according to his suggestion, but the chances were getting slimmer and slimmer as the day went by, and Peeta was growing weaker and weaker. 

The cameras turned to Cato and Clove, who were doing surprisingly well without their supplies. They had plenty of meat on their bones, and plenty of water in the lake. It would be another day or two before they ran out of the food they had salvaged from the explosion. Cato’s attempts at fishing so far had failed – humorously. But they would not have trouble hunting game in the forest with their weaponry skills when the time came for it. 

The two of them watched the sky as the Panem National Anthem played, and zero deaths were reported. 

But then trumpets sounded, and Claudius Templesmith’s unexpected voice made an announcement: “Attention tributes. Attention. The regulation requiring a single victor has been suspended. From now on, two victors may be crowned if both originate from the same district. This will be the only announcement.”

The national broadcast was on a shocked Katniss as she involuntarily uttered Peeta’s name immediately following the news.

Effie gasped. She turned to Haymitch, who was so happy and so relieved he couldn’t even smile. In fact, he couldn’t quite believe it. Effie didn’t care: she pulled him to his feet and hugged him. She had an urge to jump up and down, but she suppressed it in front of the silent room of sponsors. 

Brutus and Enobaria were pleased as well: Cato and Clove would surely make an unstoppable team. Most of the other support groups for the tributes were angry about the last minute rule change, but the overall tone of the room was positive, especially as everyone watched Katniss’ ecstatic smile. She fell back against the tree, about as giddy as anyone had ever seen her, including the time she giggled while twirling in her dress during her interview. 

The feed cut to Peeta, but he was camouflaged and nearly invisible. Reaction shots from the other tributes were not included, probably because they were furious, but then the camera settled back on Cato and Clove’s camp, which told Haymitch that Katniss was going to sleep, and had decided to save her search for daylight. 

“They’re going to win, Haymitch! Both of them!” Effie whispered excitedly. 

“We’re not there yet,” Haymitch leveled cautiously. 

“You don’t seem very surprised,” Effie noticed. 

This time a smile escaped him. “I might have suggested it to the Head Gamemaker.”

Effie hugged him again and kissed both of his cheeks. “You’re a genius! And where’s Seneca? I’m going to kiss him. I am going to show him all the appetizers! I’m going to tell him he outshines the sun.”

Haymitch frowned. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Effie was on a cloud. She went over to the refreshments table and stuffed herself with pastries, and then she made excited conversation with all of Katniss’ top sponsors. 

“I can’t wait to tell my mother,” was the last thing she said before kissing Haymitch on the cheek again and heading home. 

0000000000

Katniss was still looking for Peeta when Effie arrived back at Games Headquarters the next morning, though the girl had been on her feet since daybreak. 

Effie was desperate to see their reunion live; she had stayed late at her apartment waiting for it to happen until she could simply put off going to work no longer. She ran as much of the way as she could – well, as close to running as she could, in her shoes. The streets were emptier than usual, even for a day during the Games. No one wanted to miss anything. They all wanted to be able to say that they had seen such and such happen. Everyone would be talking about it, and you were certain to feel left out if that was when you had chosen to run an errand. The recaps were never quite the same. 

Effie was even going to make her mother turn on the television while she administered her treatment, but she didn’t need to. Even the woman who was dying wanted to see history in the making before she went. In 74 years there had never been a rule change. In 74 years there had never been two Victors for one Games. 

“It was all Haymitch!” Effie bragged. “He went to the Head Gamemaker.”

“You see to be in a better mood about the man,” her mother noted. 

Effie smiled coyly. 

“I saw the interview with him earlier,” her mother said. “You could do worse, even if he is from a District.” 

“Mother!”

The reporters had pulled Haymitch out of the sponsor room several times for Q and A’s. Everyone in Panem knew he had fallen drunkenly off the stage at the Reaping, but he almost had a polished charm in front of the screen when he was trying. He played up the love story and other aspects of Katniss and Peeta’s stories that might inspire pathos and remind viewers why they wanted them to win. He was very effective. 

Effie could have talked for hours about Haymitch but she departed quickly for Headquarters, and was relieved to see Katniss still making her way along the edge of the river, rightly guessing he had settled near it. 

Haymitch waved her over, a cup of coffee in his other hand, making him look uncharacteristically industrious. “She’s still got a few miles to go,” he informed Effie. “But she should pick up the blood trail within the hour.”

Every once in a while Claudius Templesmith would pull away from the live footage and show the tributes as dots on a map. With Katniss’ red point moving slowly closer and closer to Peeta’s alarmingly still one. He was out of food and even if he had the strength to fish it was unlikely he had the skill. It was hard to say if the starvation/dehydration or the wound would kill him first. It already seemed he was too weak to even crawl over to the water and drink. He was probably exhausted by even the thought of camouflaging himself again, but Effie knew he needed liquids and she had already spent the last 36 hours futilely yelling at him to move his sorry butt two feet and drink some water.

Everyone was silent and still as Katniss reached Peeta’s hiding spot. It was as if she was going to walk right past him, when suddenly Peeta said, “You here to finish me off, Sweetheart?”

Effie punched Haymitch playfully in the arm – Peeta had clearly been doing an impression of him. Haymitch smiled, shaking his head. “Damn kids.”

There were hoots and hollers of joy at seeing the couple reunited, and hugs amongst the District 12 support team. Haymitch sat down, leaned his head back against the cushion, and closed his eyes for a second in relief. Effie sat nimbly on the armrest next to him and gave his hand a squeeze. It took Haymitch aback for a second. Effie’s attention was elsewhere – laughing happily with Portia, smiling at the sponsors and the gamemakers – but there was a part of her still hitched to him. The gesture had been so effortless, so uncomplicated, so unmotivated, and so comforting. She had never felt more like a partner to him than she did in that moment. He was flooded with pleasure at the idea of her so in tune with him at such an unconscious level, so affixed to him without even trying. 

The national broadcast stayed on Katniss and Peeta as she began to care for him. The first sight of Peeta’s leg injury once she had cleaned it brought the whole room down, the excitement of the reunion dying in gasps and groans. No doubt the blood loss was a concern, but the greater danger was blood poisoning. The laceration was almost certainly infected, his body slowly falling into sepsis.

“Oh, Haymitch!” Effie winced. She latched onto his arm: “You have to help him! You have to send something!” Her eyes never left the screen. 

Haymitch explained to her that it just wasn’t possible. Medicine was expensive at any stage, but this late in the Games the price of the antibiotics Peeta would need was astronomical. Katniss’ sponsors had already sent her the burn ointment – they weren’t eager to pay out again. And Cato and Clove had yet to need anything – they were looking like the safer bet. 

“But Peeta is dying!” Effie cried, a little too loudly. Everyone turned to look at her. 

Haymitch shook his head. He could say nothing to comfort her. 

Katniss did her best to treat the wound using the leaves that Rue helped her identify and the antibiotic salve. Then she wrapped it up, and everyone felt better. “That should help, right?” Effie asked Haymitch, seeking his reassurance. “He’ll get better now?”

Haymitch only took a deep breath. He was quickly distracted by the discussion Katniss and Peeta had about him while Katniss washed Peeta’s clothing. 

“I wish I’d let you give Haymitch a shower after all,” Peeta said after accusing Katniss of being squeamish because she didn’t want to see him naked. 

Katniss appeared disgusted at the thought. “What’s he sent you so far?” she asked. 

“Not a thing,” Peeta answered her. “Why, did you get something?”

“Burn medicine,” Katniss replied, appearing slightly embarrassed. “Oh, and some bread.”

“I always knew you were his favorite,” Peeta said. Haymitch looked away from the screen guiltily. 

“Please, he can’t stand being in the same room with me,” Katniss argued. 

“Because you’re just alike,” was Peeta’s response. 

Effie laughed hysterically at everything they said. “Peeta gave you a shower?” she asked. 

Haymitch was less amused. “I don’t really remember.” 

Effie rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t.” She chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “It’s not fair to you, what he said.”

Haymitch turned his eyes to her in interest. 

Effie shrugged. “Katniss got an 11! Thresh and all the tributes from 1 and 2 had higher scores than him. What could you do? The fact of the matter is that he wasn’t anyone’s top pick, especially not after he nearly died trying to save Katniss, which was, by the way, the first time he ever really needed anything. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t drum up the money for any gifts for him. And none of that matters, because of what you did. You saved his life when you convinced Seneca Crane to change the rules. That was you trying to save him. I’m going to make sure he knows that when he and Katniss come out of that arena alive. “ 

Effie was really getting fired up. Haymitch leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. 

“He’s right, though,” she added, blooming under the kiss. “You two are alike. And she is your favorite.” The last sentence was tinged with jealousy. She knew that Katniss could connect with Haymitch in a way that Effie never could. That they understood each other in a way that would always exclude her. 

“It’s not that simple,” Haymitch disputed. And it wasn’t. That made it sound like he didn’t care about Peeta. But he did. In fact, he loved them both, but he couldn’t quite admit that to himself. He wasn’t ready to love anyone. 

He chose to ignore Effie’s tone, which he knew implied something about the way he treated her and what she expected from him, or wished she was getting from him.

Haymitch left her to do some rounds with the sponsors. He gathered some money, but not nearly enough for the medicine Peeta needed. Their only hope was for the other tributes to kill each other off, leaving just one or two for Katniss to take down herself, and for that to happen before Peeta died. Or for there to be a Feast, resulting from the opposite situation – almost zero interaction between tributes. 

He wished he could communicate with Katniss somehow. Tell her to either go out there and kill them all, or stay the hell away and force Crane into a Feast. And she needed to up the romance. She acted more in love with her sleeping bag than in love with Peeta. 

Thoughtful, he returned to the spot in the in the sponsor room that he, Effie, Cinna, and Portia had staked out as their own, and sat down. 

“He can barely move,” Cinna observed, expressing everyone’s fear aloud. Portia sighed heavily. 

“It’s OK, he’s got Katniss,” Effie protested optimistically. “Look, she’s found a cave. They’ll be safe there for sure.”

Katniss got a nearly-unconscious Peeta settled in the cave and then did her best to cover their tracks. Peeta began to give his dying wishes, and Effie squealed happily when Katniss shut him up with a kiss.

Effie’s reaction told Haymitch everything he needed to know. She would probably resent being used as his exemplar for the Capitol audience, but her accidental input was invaluable. And then Haymitch knew exactly how to communicate with Katniss: a system of denials and rewards. He couldn’t afford the medicine, but he could feed them. So he sent broth. He could see Katniss’ disappointment as she realized it wasn’t the desperately-needed medicine, but then that brilliant mind of hers put it together. Haymitch nodded approvingly at her behavior for the rest of the night – gazing at Peeta, kissing him, giving him all the broth, and then climbing into the sleeping bag with him and watching over him, barely sleeping herself. 

“This is the best the games has ever been,” Effie gushed the next day as Katniss told the story of buying Prim’s goat. Effie wasn’t alone: it would seem that highlights in the love story were almost a popular as big kills, and there were more of them. People were glued to their televisions, enjoying watching even the menial tasks as long as Katniss and Peeta were together. 

And then it came – an announcement for a Feast at the Cornucopia at dawn. Claudius Templesmith all but stated explicitly that the medicine Peeta needed would be there. Even dying Peeta continued to protect Katniss, forbidding that she go even though it would save his life if she were successful. He as much as told her he would commit suicide if she tried to go. 

Haymitch cursed Peeta out in the District 12 viewing room, pacing back at forth while Effie watched silently. “Does he want to die?” Haymitch demanded rhetorically. Of course the idea of Katniss fighting it out at the Feast scared him, but there really was no other option. The Games was at something of a stalemate, and the only one dying was Peeta. 

“Why doesn’t she just go when he falls asleep?” Effie pondered. 

“He’s sick. He’s sleeping lightly. And she could never go and come back before he woke. He would come after her. He would die trying.” And then it dawned on him: a sedative. Katniss had received and administered the sleep syrup before the hour was out. 

The Feast was a brutal spectacle, with Katniss nearly dying at the hands of Clove, and then being spared by Thresh. The cameras stayed with the tributes of District 2 as Clove’s head wound slowly killed her, Cato holding her hand and begging for her to live, all of his humanity showing itself in one agonizing burst. Effie found herself wishing she had ventured in to see their feed more often, and hated how moved she was. Was the death of every remaining tribute going to kill her this much?

The unwelcome pain Effie felt at the latest death in the arena was washed away upon seeing Peeta get his medicine. But the results were not quick to show themselves. The mood was calm but uneasy as the injection fought Peeta’s infection, and Katniss struggled unconsciously with the slice to her head from Cato’s knife. More than a day had passed before she woke. Peeta cared for her, and she let him. 

They began discussing some story about bread that Effie couldn’t make heads or tails of – really, if a story was going to revolve around food, it could at least be something interesting like chocolate mousse or strawberry bisque. But it became apparent that Peeta had done something for Katniss, made an unprompted sacrifice in order to help her. And Katniss wanted to know why. “You know why,” Peeta tried to explain, but Katniss wasn’t getting it, even though everyone watching and their mothers could see it was because he loved her and evidently always had. “Haymitch said you would take a lot of convincing,” Peeta muttered to himself, confusing her even more. 

Effie looked over at Haymitch. Yeah, she knew what that was like. His eyes met hers coincidentally, and she could only find it promising that the discussion had turned his thoughts towards her. She didn’t give him any relief by averting her gaze or smiling – she stared him down. Inevitably, it was him who shifted his eyes away. 

Peeta and Katniss ran out of food as a storm raged for two days. Haymitch was beside himself with frustration. “They’re supposed to be madly in love,” he repeated over and over to Effie, running his hands along his face. “The only thing they look like they’re feeling to me is cold!”

“She doesn’t want everyone watching,” Cinna said insightfully. 

“I could fill the Capitol with things Katniss doesn’t want,” Haymich growled unhelpfully. 

“They’re starving, Haymich!” Effie chastised. “You’ve already collected the money – send them something!”

But Haymitch had already established his system of denials and rewards for Katniss, and she needed to take the next step with Peeta before he was going to give her a prize. An emotional step, not a physical one. 

Haymitch, Effie, Cinna, and Portia knew Katniss. They could see her struggling with what she knew she had to do, walking right up to the edge of a confession of love, and then backing down. She finally did her best, telling Peeta that he didn’t have much competition for her anywhere. Effie’s long, happy sigh at Katniss’ words confirmed for Haymitch that this was what he had been looking for, and he arranged for the food gift.

The broadcast cut away during their meal for a recap of Thresh’s death at Cato’s hands from earlier in the day. Since he had saved Katniss’ life no one was particularly happy to see him die, but it was a relief to have one more down. Only two more to go. Though the reminder that Cato had recovered his gift from the Feast stolen by Thresh – body armor impervious to Katniss’ arrows – was not welcome. 

After eating, Peeta and Katniss ended up discussing Haymitch once more, much to Effie’s amusement yet again. 

Peeta seemed to think that Haymitch was not a fan of people in general. 

“Is that true? Are people not your sort of thing?” Effie asked him teasingly. After sending the food Haymitch had settled in on the sofa in the private viewing room, tired of dealing with everyone - confirming Peeta’s assessment. Games Headquarters was largely empty – it was getting late, and the storm, whose purpose was to drive the tributes to desperation, took time to get it’s job done, leading to an inevitably slow couple of days. Most of the mentors had already squeezed from the sponsors what they could for the time being, leaving both parties eager for a break. Effie was enjoying the quiet. Now that Katniss and Peeta’s romance was playing out on screen, everyone wanted to ask what they had been like in private before the Games, and she was constantly being pulled into conversations. 

She sat down next to him on the sofa and removed her shoes. 

“What do you think?” he challenged her.

“I think a true hermit wouldn’t have to try so hard to be one,” she responded. 

Effie’s astuteness where he was concerned was beginning to unsettle him. He thought back to what Cinna had said about underestimating her, and he realized that he had readjusted his perception of Effie nearly every single day since the Games had begun. How many more times would be have to change the way he thought about her? The way he felt about her?

His contemplation was cut off by the television: Peeta and Katniss had begun to discuss Haymitch’s victory. 

“How do you think he won the Games?’ Katniss asked. 

“He outsmarted the others,” Peeta answered, certain, after a long pause. 

Effie looked over at Haymitch with concern. She hated the Games now for the distance it had put between her and him. And for what it had done to him. Not only the Games he was in, but the subsequent 23, and all of tributes he had mentored and lost in them. 

0000000000

Effie woke up against Haymitch’s shoulder. “I hadn’t meant to stay,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. 

He was alert, sipping coffee again. “I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted you to stay.”

She smiled at that, her wig askew, making her appear goofier than usual. He laughed at her appearance, and helped her straighten the hairpiece. 

“Did I miss anything?” she asked, turning her eyes to the screen. Peeta and Katniss were finishing off their food gift, the early light of the day beginning to illuminate the cave. 

“They’re going to hunt,” Haymitch informed her. “They need the food, but they’ll never be safer than they are right now. Cato will be after them with a vengeance.”

“Do you know what I’d like? For a tree to fall over on Cato. A big, fat tree to smash his stupid, ugly head.” 

Haymitch shook his head at her, but he appreciated the sentiment. And he appreciated that Effie was Effie. 

They looked back at the television when Katniss and Peeta began to laugh. 

“Hey, Effie, watch this!” said Peeta. Then he proceeded to lick his plate clean. 

Effie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. 

“We miss you, Effie!” he called out, blowing her a kiss. 

She wiped away a tear. “I love those kids.”

Haymitch patted her on the shoulder. “They were making fun of you.”

“I know you all think I’m oblivious,” Effie began, shaking off his hand, “but how oblivious can a person really be?”

“A question you used to make me ask myself on a daily basis,” Haymitch joked. 

“But not anymore?”

“No. Not anymore,” he replied, serious. 

0000000000

The female tribute from District 5 died later that day after eating Peeta’s poison berries. Her mentor flew into a rage in the sponsor room, throwing food and kicking the wall. District 5 didn’t make it to the top four very often. The clever and sneaky red-headed girl had stood a good chance to win, only to die through a stupid accident. 

Haymitch had already guessed that the next day would likely be the last of the Games. He figured Seneca Crane would get involved in a big way, more than just draining the river which happened onscreen overnight. 

Peeta and Katniss made a late start of it, and then headed towards the lake. They were as ready to end it as the gamemakers were. But Effie knew a lot of it was bravado – who wouldn’t be afraid of facing Cato?

Haymitch was furious when the muttations appeared. He was so angry he had to leave the room, lest he throw food and kick walls as well. Effie followed him into the District 12 room as she often did. He calmed when Katniss and Peeta made it on top of the Cornucopia with Cato. It was as suspenseful as ever, but at least Katniss wasn’t going to be killed by some last-minute gamemaker intervention. It would be a proper showdown with the remaining tribute. 

Katniss managed to get an arrow into Cato’s hand, sending him off the Cornucopia and onto the ground. The mutts played with him for the rest of the day and all through the night, until Katniss finally got an arrow into him the next morning, finishing him off. Peeta was in poor shape, the wound on his leg had reopened and was bleeding badly. Katniss put on a tourniquet, but he was still in trouble. Everyone watched through the night, waiting for that final death of Cato, and possibly Peeta’s as well if it didn’t end soon. 

Effie snuck naps on the sofa, but she knew Haymitch hadn’t slept in almost two days. She made sure he ate, but whenever she tried to force him to sleep, she always came back to find him sitting up and watching the television again. 

And then Cato was dead, finally. 

But it didn’t end. 

Effie noticed Haymitch began to shake ever so slightly as Claudius Templesmith’s voice boomed with another announcement: “Greetings to the final contestants of the 74th Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed,” he said. “Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Effie cried out in disbelief. 

The whole building was silent. Effie wished they were in the private viewing room, but they were out in the open in front of everyone. She wanted to protect Haymitch. She didn’t want him to have to deal with what was coming while everyone watched. She wished they were at her apartment, where she could just hold him even if he resisted at first.

Haymitch didn’t take his eyes off the screen, and Effie was paralyzed with horror, until she grew weak and collapsed back onto the sofa. “They can’t do that,” she whispered. And she was glad she had whispered. Because they could do that. That was the whole point.

It was heartbreaking as Peeta tried to end his life in order to save Katniss, ordering her to shoot him, removing the wrapping and tourniquet on his leg, begging her to live with descriptions of his love and a worthless life without her. 

Effie knew Haymitch didn’t want to hear her sobbing, so she stuffed her fist into her mouth and let the tears fall silently. Her eyes grew wide when Katniss pulled out the nightlock berries. “It can’t end like this,” Effie shouted, her voice thick from crying. She didn’t care that everyone heard. 

Katniss and Peeta counted to three and lifted the berries to their mouth, and Effie thought she had forgotten how to breathe, when Claudius Templesmith bellowed as quickly as he could for them to stop, and officially declared the both of them the Victors of the 74th Hunger Games.

Effie was so dizzy that for a moment she couldn’t even hold up her head. But then the trance was broken, and she felt all the worry melting away as a giddy smile broke out on her face. 

Peeta and Katniss spat out the berries and washed out their mouths, and he was on death’s door but the doctors on the hovercraft were the very best with all of the state-of-the-art medical equipment on board that they could ever need, and Effie knew he would be just fine even if a terrified and yelling Katniss clearly didn’t. 

Effie closed the space between her and Haymitch with a sprint and then she pushed him playfully. “Ha! They did it! They did it!” she squealed. 

He was still in a state of disbelief. She pinched his cheek. “More smiling! They’re alive, Haymitch! Both of them!”

Haymitch shook his head. 

Effie put one hand on top of his head and one beneath his chin and forced him to nod instead. “Yes! They really are!”

He removed her hands as he began to laugh, and then he dipped her suddenly, giving her a dramatic kiss, with one arm behind her back to hold her up and another behind her head to force her lips against his. 

She yelped in surprise as she went down, drawing even more attention to herself. When he yanked her back up she leaned against him, lightheaded and breathless. 

“I think I might be too old for that,” she mused. 

“Nonsense!” Haymitch protested. 

“Everyone saw,” she whispered to him. 

He shrugged. “It was worth it.” Then he slapped her rear with a “Ha!” before heading over to the refreshments table and eating one of just about everything.


	9. Nine

Haymitch had been wise with the timing of his kiss: there was far too much going on for Effie to confront him about it. He had to have known it was a significant act. Up on that stupid rooftop she had as much as confessed to being in love with him. You can’t just go around kissing people that are in love with you without there being consequences. And as deeply-flawed of a man as Haymitch was, he was smart enough, and good enough, to know when he was leading her on, and that he shouldn’t do it. 

These thoughts flew through her head as she watched him fill his stomach after two weeks of stress and occupation. The rest of the world felt muted for a moment as she gazed upon him being happy. Or as close to happy as Haymitch would ever get. She wanted to make him smile like that. She wanted to see him smile like that every day. 

“I was trying to figure out why you were spending all of your time with that frou-frou instead of me. Now I know: if you would have kissed me like that I would have punched you.”

Haymitch looked up from the table to see his friend Chaff. “If I would have kissed you like that I would have punched myself,” Haymitch joked. His smile evaporated, leaving behind an expression of chagrin: “Effie’s not so bad.”

“I never would have guessed that’s how you felt,” his friend responded, irony heavy in his voice. “I guess if I had a pretty little thing like that as an escort, I’d be saying the same thing. And doing the same thing.”

Haymitch chose not to respond to the implication. 

“I’m surprised you waited so long,” Chaff continued. “If I could find a woman who could put up with me like she puts up with you, we’d be married right now.”

“Well I hope you never find her. For her sake,” Haymitch replied.

Chaff laughed. “True. But if she loved me…she just might think it all worth it.” 

Haymitch wasn’t sure about the turn of the conversation. The theme music for a segment on the television temporarily distracted them, and when they turned back to each other, they both knew it was time for a change in subject.

“Congratulations,” Chaff said, his tone insistent. Even though he had been Thresh’s mentor, after what Katniss had done for Rue, it was hard to be resentful about her winning. And everyone outside of District 2 was pleased that Cato hadn’t been the Victor. 

“It could have been Thresh,” Haymitch offered as consolation. 

Chaff nodded, accepting the note of sympathy. 

“Haymitch!” Effie called out. She pointed at her trusty watch. 

“Well, I’m sure your nights are busy,” Chaff began, full of innuendo, “but find me before you leave town and we’ll go out for drinks.”

Haymitch nodded and then followed after his escort. 

Effie had exchanged congratulations and handshakes with Peeta and Katniss’ sponsors and spoke excitedly with Cinna and Portia over the telephone. The stylists were already hammering out ideas for the Victors’ interview with Caesar Flickerman. But the hovercraft ride back from the arena would take less than an hour, and there wasn’t time to dawdle. Once she had Haymitch in tow they headed over to the Training Center. 

Even Effie’s thoughts weren’t on the kiss as they waited for Peeta and Katniss to return. Both of the former tributes would likely spend the night in the hospital, but she was eager to see them, if only for a second. The aircraft landed lightly on the roof, and Effie and Haymitch approached as it powered down. 

The side door opened, and a short metal ramp unfurled. 

“She’s screaming,” Effie exclaimed as Katniss’ panicked cries reached her ears, picking up her pace with concern. “What if Peeta…”

The screaming stopped. 

“What is going on?” Haymich demanded fiercely, stopping an exiting paramedic. 

The paramedic didn’t have time to answer; Peeta was being unloaded on a gurney. Effie gasped when she saw his pallor. 

“He’s steady, but he’s going to lose the leg,” explained a woman in a blood-stained lab coat, coming up behind Peeta’s unconscious body. She dismissed the paramedic with a wave of her hand, and then instructed the gurney-bearers to continue carrying Peeta into the building. 

Haymitch nodded somberly while Effie frowned. It was unfortunate, but it was better than dying. He wouldn’t be the first amputee-Victor, and the support technology was only getting better. 

“Where’s Miss Everdeen?” Effie questioned authoritatively. She peered into the vessel, but it was too dark for her to see. 

“We’ve sedated her. We’re going to put her on an IV, but she’ll be fine.”

Haymitch and Effie only had to wait for a second before Katniss was being wheeled out of the hovercraft. She looked fitter than Peeta, but she certainly wasn’t the same girl they had said goodbye to the night before the Games had begun. She had a feral look to her, even ignoring her injuries, unkempt hair, and blood-smeared clothes. 

“I wanted to hug them,” Effie muttered dolefully as she watched the two of them and the medical staff disappear inside the building. 

Haymitch put his hand on her back and guided her to follow them. 

The Training Center had a clinic that was adequate for Katniss’ needs, but Peeta’s surgery was a bit more intensive and he was taken to a nearby hospital for the amputation. 

Katniss’ physician explained that they would keep her under for a few days. It was a typical course of treatment for Victors, and given her behavior on the return trip from the arena, there was a fear she was suffering some sort of psychosis. She described something about the shock of the adjustment period, but Haymitch wasn’t listening - he was thinking back to when he had gone through the same thing. It had been a relief to not have to think, to let his guard down, to let someone take care of him. To just sleep and sleep and sleep. He knew Katniss would have questions when she woke, that even thought their relationship was tense that she would want to see him. But he felt all right about leaving her there under the care of the doctors, dead to the world, for the time being.

“Psychosis!” Effie scoffed as they left the Training Center. “Not Katniss. They probably wouldn’t let her see Peeta. That’s probably why she was so upset.”

Haymitch agreed. 

They spent the rest of the day at the hospital with Peeta. During his surgery they waited nervously in the lobby, Haymitch at his flask and Effie mindlessly watching the television. There were interviews with Seneca Crane, and retrospective commentary from Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith. 

The landmark Games was being celebrated as one of the best. A poll indicated that for 55% of the Capitol it was their favorite ever. 

“They’re looking for you, I’m sure,” Effie pointed out to Haymitch. “They always interview the mentor as soon as they can.”

He was reclined lazily on a chair across from her, his brow furrowed in contemplation. 

“This is more important,” he responded dismissively. 

“I know. But it’s your job.” And with the way he was hitting the liquor, she was worried he would only be sober enough for the task for so long. 

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll go back to Headquarters before the end of the day.”

Effie blinked. That had been so much easier than what she was used to. It had taken more effort on her part to get him to change his tie the day the Games began after he spilled sauce on it. She crossed the aisle and took a seat next to him, reaching into his pocket and removing the flask. “I’m going to hold on to this for now.” 

He stared at her during the presumptuous maneuver. But he let her take it. “Are you going to sleep with it?” he asked. There was no hint of a smile on his face, but she heard it in his voice.

“You’ll have to come and see,” she answered suggestively. 

He was saved from responding by an announcement from a nurse, though there was a ready reply on his lips. 

Peeta’s surgery went through without any complications, and Haymitch and Effie moved to his bedside for the rest of the afternoon. The blood transfusion had put some color back into his face, and the drugged, dreamless sleep left him looking peaceful. 

Effie brainstormed ideas for the banquet in the Victors’ honor, and occasionally Haymitch gave his input, which was more than she could have hoped for. She was the one with the talent for planning, of course, but, being from District 12, Haymitch would be able to help personalize the event. She telephoned Cinna and Portia with updates, and called the mayor of District 12 so that he could deliver personal messages to the Everdeens and the Mellarks, including the unfortunate news about Peeta’s leg.

Like Katniss, the doctors were going to keep Peeta heavily sedated for several days while he recuperated. There would be a period of physical therapy for him as he grew accustomed to his prosthetic leg which would last for weeks.

After dining at the hospital they returned to Headquarters. Effie sent Haymitch up to the studio to do an official post-Games interview as he had said he would. The government was eager to know when the televised interview with the Victors could be held, and Effie managed to put it off for an extra two days with exaggerations of their conditions. She didn’t want her babies going live before the entire country until they were ready. 

She was tired, exhausted really, from the stress of the day, but she didn’t want to go home without…something from him. So she joined him in the studio to watch the show. 

Haymith’s answers were brief and to the point. He didn’t engage in speculation of any kind, sharing only the information he knew, except to emphasize how much Katniss and Peeta loved each other. He evaded questions about Rue, the bread sent by District 11, and the possible implications of the rule change. Effie could tell he was being extremely cautious, but she didn’t understand why. 

“You’re still here,” he noted, exiting the soundstage after the interview was over. 

She shrugged innocently. “I had to give you back your booze.” 

“Oh. Because I was going to come get it.” Unhesitating, he backed her against the wall, ostentatiously removing them both from blocking the hallway.

But she couldn’t help but notice how close he was. Much closer than he had to be. And then he set his palm flat on the wall and leaned against it, effectively caging her.

“Is that right?” she asked, smiling coquettishly, and batting her unnaturally-long eyelashes.

He nodded, chewing on the edge of his lip. “Now you’ve ruined my plan.”

“It was a plan? Something you’d thought about, then?” she led.

“Definitely something I had thought about.” 

“It was something I had thought about too.”

“Then you shouldn’t have ruined it by staying here,” he pointed out, only a touch of playfulness in his tone to indicate he wasn’t serious. 

“Have I ruined it?” she questioned softly. “I couldn’t just say, ‘Come over’? That wouldn’t work?”

“That might work,” he conceded, pretending to consider the idea, leaning in a little further as if the burden of thinking was zapping his strength. 

Of course they both knew what the distinction was. If she invited him over, then he could no longer pass off whatever might happen as an accident, as a momentary loss of sanity, as a thing of no consequence. 

Quietly, she spoke the words: “Come over.”

0000000000

He could feel her watching him as they rode the light rail to her apartment. He would have liked to have walked, but it was too far in her shoes. He was surprised that he didn’t find it frustrating to make that small sacrifice for her. Her three inch skinny heels were arrogantly decadent, aggressively impractical – the height of Capitol extravagance. No one in District 12 would wear shoes like that – not even the mayor’s wife – not only because they couldn’t afford them, but because you can’t do anything in them. But it didn’t make him angry right then. Because they were Effie’s shoes. 

She was probably wondering why he wasn’t more relieved. He couldn’t explain on the train. It probably wasn’t safe to talk in her apartment either - not anymore. Haymitch pulled her aside after they disembarked. 

“I think your apartment might be bugged,” he informed her straightly just above a whisper. 

It was well after dark. Warm, but misting. It didn’t matter that the sky wasn’t clear – you couldn’t see the stars in the Capitol anyway. He wanted to show Effie the starlit sky in District 12. She would like it. It would be one point in District 12’s favor, and he suddenly felt very keen to make District 12 appeal to her in any way that he could. 

He put his arm around her shoulders and began ushering her down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, so that they looked like a couple on an evening walk. It then dawned on him that they were a couple on an evening walk, even if said walk had a specific purpose. 

“My apartment? But why?”

“I don’t think President Snow is going to take too kindly to Katniss after the way the Games ended. He may choose to see what she did as an act of defiance.” 

“Defiance?”

“You can see why it might be a little embarrassing for them: the rule change was revoked, and then Katniss forced them to reinstate it by threatening to kill herself. The ruling elite won’t like it.”

“And they’ll be suspicious of me because I’m her escort?”

Haymitch nodded. “They’ll be suspicious of all of us.” Growing paranoid, he glanced around the street to make sure no one was close by. It wasn’t that he thought they were being followed: anyone might inform on them. 

Effie’s eyes widened, and Haymitch knew she was thinking of what had happened to his family. “President Snow might think it was like what you did?” she whispered. 

“He might.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “He killed your family. Your mother and your brother and your…girlfriend.” She choked a little over the word. “Do you think he’ll do that to Katniss’ family? To Peeta’s?”

“Worried about your lover the baker?” he teased. 

Despite the gravity of the topic, Effie had to smile.

“I don’t know,” Haymitch finished. “We have to make him believe Katniss wasn’t being defiant.”

“But you weren’t being defiant. You were just trying to win.”

“Well I don’t think President Snow believes in being too careful. And neither do I.” 

They relapsed into a thoughtful silence as they turned the corner. 

“Did you love her? That girl?” Effie asked, shattering the quiet. 

As Haymitch looked into her curious eyes, he knew he couldn’t shut down the subject like he wanted to. He had to tell her something real. He had to confide in her. He owed that to her. He owed that to himself. 

“No,” he answered. The word sounded cold and empty, bouncing around in the night. 

Effie’s face was unreadable. “You didn’t?”

“Everyone knew we were together. That’s why they killed her. But it wasn’t serious. She died for me, and we weren’t even in love.” He laughed humorlessly. 

Effie recalled Haymitch during his Games. It didn’t surprise her that he had not loved the girl he left behind, nor that he had probably entered into a purely physical relationship with her. That brash and calculating young man, the very opposite of Peeta in so many ways, would not have had an open and vulnerable heart. He might even have looked on love as a weakness, the same way he now looked on it as a vector for loss and death. And it didn’t surprise her that the sometimes too-truthful present-day Haymitch had not romanticized his memory of the girl. 

Something else tickled in her recollection – vaguely unpleasant and objectively tragic. And then it struck her: the ally. An unwelcome envy stirred in Effie, even as she was grateful to her for being a sort of pioneer, for introducing Haymitch to the idea of caring for someone it was better and easier not to care for. “What about the girl from your District that was in the Quarter Quell with you?” 

There had been a second girl from District 12, but Haymitch knew who she meant. He stiffened. “Her name was Maysilee.”

It was obvious to Effie from even his brief and regulated reaction to their mentions that Haymitch had cared far more about Maysilee than the murdered girlfriend. 

“I wasn’t in love with her,” he added evenly, assuming that was why Effie had brought her up. He might have told her to not waste her time being jealous of the dead, but it remained unspoken. 

“But you cared about her. I know I don’t need to tell you that it wasn’t your fault,” Effie comforted. “Neither of them. Nor your mother and brother.” 

“But if something happened to you, it would be my fault. Because this time I should have known better.”

This time? “Do you really think something will happen to me because of you?”

Haymitch thought of the rioting in District 11. He didn’t know what the future held. He felt a spark of hope in the rebellion, but there would always be a price. “Well I haven’t been pushing you away out of disgust. Not recently, anyway.”

Rolling her eyes, she dragged him towards the front door of her apartment building and inside. 

The ride up on the elevator was agonizingly slow. There was an intensity to the silence between them that had Effie blushing and her temperature rising. She almost wished he could see the blush under her make-up so that he would know what she was feeling, and she wouldn’t have to tell him to just put his damn hands all over her already. 

But once she had locked them into her apartment, and kicked off her shoes, and taken his hand, and drawn him into her bedroom, she stopped. 

He frowned impatiently, his hands already hurriedly undoing the buttons on his vest. 

“I’m in love with you, you know,” she stated. 

“Yeah, I know,” he answered matter-of-factly, returning to the buttons. 

She knew he was teasing her, but it still made her angry for him to even joke about being so cavalier towards her feelings, especially when she still had reason to be insecure about them. “You’re a cad,” she accused. 

“Me? No.” He grinned, and took a few steps towards her. 

She stepped behind her until the backs of her legs hit the edge of her bed. “Well I think that you are.”

“But you love me,” he pointed out. “You just said so.”

“I…can’t help it.”

He moved towards her another few inches. “Well it’s all right, because I love you, too.”

She swallowed. “You do?”

He closed the space between them. “I think so.” His head bobbed from side to side, feigning indecision. 

Effie frowned. “You think so?” Though she of course suspected, she was too gullible of a person to know for certain he was only having a little fun at her expense.

“Pretty sure.” He leaned in to kiss her but waited for her lips to meet his. 

They didn’t. “Pretty sure?” She began beating on his chest in lighthearted annoyance. “Haymitch I love you so much you can’t-” 

He swept her into the kiss she had so far refused to willingly join, crushing her arms against his chest, laughing at her against her mouth until her lips reciprocated, and whispering “Definitely” into her ear as they fell back onto the bed. “Obviously.”

0000000000

Effie invited Haymitch to come shower with her the next morning, but he batted her off childishly and rolled over. Rather than the reflex that had nearly gotten her kicked in the stomach last time, this was merely him being stubborn and sleepy. Amused, she let him rest. For the first day in over three weeks she had nowhere to be. The task of planning the banquet was still before her, but it could be done from her apartment and she had no desire to leave. 

Haymitch did wake eventually. He wandered out in undershorts, scratching his head and blinking against the light. 

“I waited to have breakfast this time,” she told him, pointing for him to sit down across from her at her kitchen table. 

He half-laughed at that, remembering the last time. How upset he’d been when she had tried to make him leave. He hadn’t wanted to go.

Haymitch didn’t need to tell her what he wanted for the meal – she already knew what he preferred. 

While he ate, all he could think about was how beautiful she was. She was still lounging in her bathrobe, and tied loosely, it had a plunging neckline and a rocketing slit. She hadn’t done herself up yet, and all he saw was pink and yellow. 

“You like me like this, don’t you?” she asked, noticing him staring appreciatively. 

He could only nod and chew. 

She smiled warmly. All of the fashions of the Capitol were meant to make you beautiful. That he thought she was beautiful without them…

“I seem to remember being very rude to you earlier this morning,” he remarked. 

“With how often you’re rude to me, I’m amazed you found that memorable at all.”

He nodded, accepting the censure with a smile. “Well I apologize.”

Effie arched her back, drawing attention to her chest. “Apologize to yourself. You’re the one who missed out.”

He looked her up and down. “I can see that. Perhaps if you’re feeling generous, you can help me make it up to myself.”

She stretched her arms. “I might be.”

“You might be?”

She shrugged. “Pretty sure.”

“Oh? Pretty sure?” He scooped her up out of her chair, laughing, and carried her into the bedroom. 

0000000000

They tried – and failed – several more times to start their day, so that it was well after noon before they were dressed. 

Effie had spoken with Peeta and Katniss’ doctors, and knew that they were both doing well. Aside from caring for her mother, that had been the only obligation she felt for the day. 

“Will you accompany me to my Mother’s?” Effie asked Haymitch, adjusting his tie. “She so enjoyed you company last time.” And Effie didn’t say so, but if her mother did die, then she wanted her to have known Haymitch as well as possible, and for him to have known her mother. 

“Oh, I thought I would just follow you there like last time, and wait in the bushes.”

“No need. You are formally invited.”

Haymitch was happy to go. He rather liked Effie’s mother, all things considered. She was a clever and educated woman, and she made good tea. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” her mother remarked, seeing her un-done-up daughter. 

Effie shrugged shyly. 

“And you, I’m so glad you’ve come,” Effie’s mother declared, welcoming Haymitch inside. “It’ll be so much better talking to you rather than about you.” 

Haymitch grinned at Effie, but she turned her head away quickly in embarrassment. 

0000000000

It wasn’t long before Effie and Haymitch returned to her apartment. Effie made a half-hearted attempt at planning more of the banquet, but Haymitch had her back in the bedroom before she could find a pen. 

And before she knew it, it was two days later.


	10. Ten

Now that Katniss and Peeta had spent several days under sedation, the doctors had decided it was finally time to let them wake up. The short period of rest had restored them both to nearly-perfect condition and they would not have benefited from more time in the hospital, although Effie wouldn’t have minded the delay. 

She and Haymitch were at Peeta’s bedside when he woke, and Haymitch himself broke the news about the amputation, while Effie held Peeta’s hand tightly and offered optimistic platitudes, stifling her tears. “I know it seems horrible now,” she said. “But once you get used to the prosthetic, it won’t matter. Not really.” Effie’s lack of exposure to similar situations didn’t lend her words much weight, but Peeta listened politely and nodded his head. 

He took the news surprisingly well. But he was happy that he was alive. Happy that Katniss was alive. And all the things he wanted to do – bake, frost, paint, kiss Katniss – they didn’t require legs. Effie kissed him on the forehead after he said that. 

Haymitch squeezed Peeta’s shoulder in comfort, and after being taken aback by the gesture, Peeta smiled warmly back at him. 

Peeta wanted to see Katniss, and Effie informed him through gritted teeth that he would not be allowed to see her until they were reunited publicly on Caesar Flickerman’s show. It infuriated her. “Don’t they care about anything but their TV shows?” she had asked Haymitch after getting off the phone with her government liaison. “Not really,” he told her. But he didn’t want to say more than that in case they could be overheard. 

Of course her anger over that had been noting compared to Haymitch’s rage when he found out that the Gamemakers wanted to spruce up Katniss with breast-enhancement surgery. He had left Effie naked in bed and gone to the Games Headquarters to debate with them in person as soon as he got the news over the phone. Effie would not have wanted anyone making fashion choices for her, so she agreed with Haymitch in principal, although personally she thought the surgery would have been a definite improvement for Katniss’ figure. The disruption to their holiday-of-sorts had been unwelcome, but Haymitch had returned triumphant and given Effie nothing to complain about afterwards.

Katniss woke after Peeta, and Haymitch, Effie, and Cinna were all there to greet her. Effie had felt like she needed to be strong for Peeta as he learned about the loss of his leg, but with Katniss she let her emotions show a bit more. Katnss flew into Haymitch’s arms, and Effie petted her hair affectionately. “I told everyone you two were pearls,” she said, to which Katniss laughed. 

Cinna took Katniss to prepare her for the interview, while Portia was readying Peeta elsewhere. 

Haymitch had subtly warned Cinna of his concerns. Smart, insightful, and cautious, Cinna had decrypted the code quickly and designed Katniss’ dress with that in mind. “She’s just a girl. Just a girl in love,” Haymitch told him, and while it would have sounded to anyone like a casual observation, Cinna knew those were instructions. 

Between the heavily-edited television news and Haymitch’s discussion with the Gamemakers, he knew that there was a solid foundation for his fears. He made a special trip to see Chaff, who only confirmed what he had suspected. There was political unrest in more Districts than just 11, and there were rumors that President Snow blamed these Games, and specifically Katniss. Chaff knew one of the avoxes that worked at Snow’s mansion, and they had found ways to communicate. The avox had informed him that President Snow was extremely displeased, and Seneca Crane was going to be punished.

“You shouldn’t be doing that. It’s too dangerous,” Haymitch told Chaff. 

“Unlike you, I’ve got nothing to lose,” he responded. 

Haymitch had thought nothing of what his friend had said at the time. But as he traveled back to Effie’s apartment, the words struck him. He was afraid now in a way that he had never been before. And that could only be because now he had something to lose. Katniss. Peeta. Hope.

And Effie.

Haymitch hugged Katniss before her interview – he could tell she was surprised – until he leaned in and whispered to her that she needed to be a girl madly in love and nothing else. He felt the fear seize her body, but she played it off for everyone watching, the same way she’d played in the Games. He fixed her headband, she fixed his bowtie, and then he kissed her on the forehead and departed. 

And just like that he knew that Katniss was family. 

Haymitch didn’t worry about Peeta. No matter what that boy was going to look like a lovesick puppy, not a traitor. Peeta’s very nature was disarming. His demeanor was calming and assuring. His smile inspired a sort of inner peace. As if as long as Peeta was smiling, everything was OK. 

Effie was introduced first on stage. She was worried too, but she couldn’t help but be gleeful and giddy underneath the glimmering lights. She waved and laughed at the crowd. Haymitch was happy for her. And seeing her so twinkling and effulgent gave him a sudden pang of humility. There was something bright in her that he didn’t deserve to touch. 

Cinna and Portia were applauded heavily, and deservedly so. 

And then Haymitch was called up. The audience was uproarious – hooting, hollering, and stomping their feet. He had to smile at that. And well, maybe his tributes weren’t in the clear yet, but they had won the Games, and that was worth smiling about. That was worth being proud of. 

Sort of.

He was reminded of his own interview on that stage after he had won the Quarter Quell. He had been a cocky tribute, but a grim Victor after losing Maysilee. After seeing so many people killed. After killing so many himself. It was easier to smile this time, especially after he glanced over at Effie, seated to the side of the stage. She winked at him, and then smiled softly when he sat down next to her.

Katniss’ greeting for Peeta was full of love, and she clung to him in a way that was almost subconscious as they sat down, but Haymitch urged her with his eyes to do more. They curled up together on the loveseat as the three-hour replay was shown. As was the case with most of the non-Career Victors, she hated almost every second of it. Haymitch had hated his too, even though it had made him look like a god. You don’t outlive 47 opponents and not look good. But killing even for self-defense leaves a nasty taste in your mouth. 

The Victor’s banquet at President Snow’s mansion followed the interview and the replay. 

Effie was self-conscious about the banquet not having spent as much time planning it as she might have because she had been busy with “other things”. But as far as Haymitch was concerned, it was like any other. She was moaning about the color palette, and how she should have looked at the shade of purple instead of ordering it blindly, and that told Haymitch all he needed to know about the magnitude her planning failures. She was too busy to pay attention to him – there were phases of catering to organize, and crooked banners, and missing forks. Normally at these things he would just find a corner table and drink, but he wanted Effie’s company and couldn’t get it and it frustrated him. 

Katniss and Peeta held hands through the entire event as they met and thanked their sponsors. Which left Haymitch entirely alone, and for the first time in a long time, it bothered him. But it did allow him to keep an eye on the President, who likewise spent most of his time watching Katniss. Haymitch reviled the man so much it was hard to be in the same room with him. It was so easy to pin all of his hate and blame on Snow, but the current system was so much more than just one man. It would take more than assassination to dismantle it. Haymitch almost wished he wasn’t smart enough to know that. Then he would have murdered Snow 24 years ago. 

Haymitch, Portia and Effie escorted Peeta and Katniss back to the Training Center when the banquet finally wound down around dawn. He was afraid of what Katniss would say to Peeta if she had a chance to speak with him privately, so he kept them apart as best as he could. The last thing they needed was for Peeta to stop smiling. Katniss was sent to her bedroom, and Portia took Peeta away for some last minute fittings.

Effie was exhausted. She laid down on the sofa in Peeta and Katniss’ penthouse. “We should just stay here. It’s so late. I can’t even move anymore.”

He lifted her legs up into the air and sat down underneath them. Then he pulled her foot into his lap, removed her shoe, and gave her a massage. “You know what tomorrow is.”

Effie’s eyes were closed, but she sighed. “Yes.” In less than 12 hours they would be on the train heading back to District 12. She sat up and looked at him. “So you’re saying we should go back to my apartment.”

“Yes.”

She nodded.

0000000000

All they did was sleep, but he pulled her into his arms and held her for those few hours. Her eyes closed the second her head hit the pillow, but Haymitch knew there was plenty of time for sleeping later. He ran his fingers through her pretty golden hair, and traced shapes on her back, and listened to her heartbeat, and did all the silly things he had never done with a woman before because he had never wanted to. 

He woke her up earlier than she needed to wake up just to have those extra minutes with one another. They showered together and ate a long breakfast together and said very little. Then Effie had to leave to rouse their “little Victors”, and he went and packed up his hotel room. 

During the final interview, Haymitch stayed near the stage, and Katniss turned to him many times for guidance. She was visibly nervous, but her answers were perfect and he told her so after it was over. She was relieved, but he didn’t let himself be. 

Effie had a job to do, escorting Katniss and Peeta back to the Training Center, helping them collect their belongings, and then wrangling them and Haymitch onto the train. Like the banquet the night before, she didn’t have any time for him. 

Cinna and Portia saw them off. 

“What about your mother?” Haymitch asked her when they were finally alone, realizing she was the only who was leaving something behind, even if it was only for a few days. 

“There’s a nurse who cares for her while I’m away.” She was looking over the table, making sure that dinner was perfect. “It is kind of a relief,” she remarked, “to be taking them back home.” Then she smiled, with water in her eyes. “I’ve never taken any of them home before.”

Haymitch couldn’t smile. The worst thing to befall him had not happened in the Capitol. But he did wipe away the one tear that slipped down her cheek. 

He automatically pulled away when Peeta came trudging in, loud and awkward with his cane and fake leg. Effie gave Haymitch a look, but it was not one of reproach. 

They watched the interview after dinner, all sitting around the television much like they had at the Training Center. Then they got some fresh air and stretched their legs when the train stopped to refuel. Effie and Haymitch stood in the doorway, watching Peeta and Katniss strolling hand in hand. Peeta bent over and picked some flowers for her a short distance away

“They’re so sweet,” Effie commented, sighing. 

“Do you want me to pick you some flowers?” he inquired. It was clear from his voice that he had no intention whatsoever of doing it. 

She scowled at him wryly, before sighing again. “Haymitch, we need to talk.”

“I know.” But his eyes were on the kids. “Let’s it do it later, though.”

She crossed her arms. “Fine.”

He watched Katniss and Peeta for a minute more, and then groaned. “I’ve got to do something.”

Effie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not fair to Peeta,” was all he said before heading off towards the two of them. 

“What did you do?” Effie asked him when he returned to her, and as they watched Peeta storm away a minute later.

“The right thing.”

Effie hit him on the shoulder. “Stop being so cryptic.”

Haymitch explained in a whisper that whatever Katniss felt for Peeta, she was acting strategically, and Peeta didn’t know that. Haymitch had set Katniss up for a confession. 

“Doesn’t look like it went well,” Effie noted sadly. 

Peeta went straight to his room, and Katniss settled into hers before long. 

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell them about you and me,” Haymitch said suddenly, after he and Effie had been alone for a few minutes. Effie was sipping on some wine and letting the movement of the train lull her. She lifted her head and turned to him. “But I didn’t know what to tell them,” he finished. “And you saw how they were on the first day, critical, and-”

“They had plenty of reasons to be critical of you on the first day,” she pointed our dryly. 

“Yes, well, I don’t like interference, you know. The more they know about me, the more they’ll try to fix me.”

“So you’d rather keep it a secret?”

He nodded. “It’s safer for you, anyway. Distance from me and Katniss can only be good for you.”

“Distance?” she said softly.

“Or the appearance of distance,” he amended shiftily. 

“It’s going to be more than the appearance of distance,” she shot back. “Besides, you kissed me in front of everyone.”

“Maybe I could turn that into a habit. Just start kissing random women.”

“Don’t you dare!” Effie threw a leftover roll at him. 

He smiled. “I don’t think that anyone is going to think much of that kiss unless they knew that we had kissed before it. And after it, too.” He rose and walked around the table to her. “And right now” He leaned over and planted a firm kiss on her lips. 

“We’ve got more to talk about,” she protested. 

“Nah,” he replied. He drank down the rest of her wine in one swallow, then yanked her to her feet and pulled her into her bedroom. 

“Your stuff is in here!” she noticed. “That was presumptuous.”

“Was it?” he asked, winking at her. 

“I had too much to drink,” she admitted, followed by a guilt-proclaiming hiccup. “Because I should be making you talk more and I’m not. Because you live in District 12, and I-”

Haymitch had begun unhooking her dress, and he lifted it up over her head just in time to muffle her words completely. Her wig came off with it, and he removed the bands keeping her hair up, so that it tumbled down onto her shoulders. She shook is out. 

“Yes, there are a few more things that we should probably talk about, but we’re not going to, right?” he posed, kissing her on the shoulder. 

She gave in and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

0000000000

Effie woke when it was still dark. Haymitch was asleep beside her on his stomach, one of his arms thrown over her in a haphazard but not insignificant manner. She rolled over towards him so that they were facing each other, adjusting the blankets because he didn’t know how to share. 

Haymitch Abernathy. 

She couldn’t quite believe it. That she wanted this. How much she wanted this. 

She let him sleep because she knew hard it was for him. She just laid there, feeling a kind of fulfillment she never had before, but also a kind of fear that she had never known. The train slowed through the mountains and Effie knew that they were nearing District 12. 

She finally gave Haymitch a shake. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, and it was gray outside her window instead of black. 

He was lucid quickly, noticing the changed movement of the train and the dull light coming in under the curtains. 

She ruffled his hair with a sad smile and didn’t say anything. 

Readying themselves side by side, the silence continued. It had felt so important to her the night before for them to talk about their future together, but now that they were so close to District 12 she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking. 

She woke Peeta and Katniss, but only Katniss came to breakfast. Katniss noticed Peeta’s absence with a frown and returned to her room before long. Effie brought some food to Peeta, which he accepted only because it was the last time he would be spoiled in such a way. Even the richest of District 12 didn’t eat like they ate in the Capitol. 

Pausing in the door, she wavered indecisively and then finally spoke the dejected young man: “I like Katniss, of course, the dear, but really, she’s a fool if she doesn’t love you.”

Peeta managed a courteous half-smile. “Thanks, Effie. But I can’t make Katniss love me. She just does or she just doesn’t, right? Even if she thinks she should love me, it doesn’t mean that she can.”

“Not everybody loves in the same way, Peeta. The way you love – not everybody can love like that. And sometimes people like Katniss…well, they get in their own way.”

He nodded, considering her words, as she shut his door. 

The train pulled up into the station less than an hour later, and Effie had to make sure that her little Victors were dressed for the cameras. She choreographed their exit from the train, including a short walk across the platform to a peacekeeper cars that would drive them to their homes. Effie made sure they understood that they were to stand next to each other, and Haymitch bluntly told them that the show wasn’t over, but it was Peeta’s idea for them to hold hands. 

The cameras captured the homecoming while the crowd cheered for their returning tributes. Katniss’ mother and sister and her “cousin” Gale were waiting. Prim ran to her sister and wrapped her arms tightly around her. Peeta’s parents were there to greet him as well. There was a car for each family. Effie didn’t let them leave without hugs, and Haymitch waved them off too even though they weren’t really saying goodbye to him. 

The crowd dissipated after the Victors left, leaving only Haymitch and Effie and the train crew. 

“We’re loading the coal now, it should only be another few hours,” the conductor told Effie. 

She nodded glumly.

There would be a celebration for Katniss and Peeta the next day in their public square, but it was the responsibility of the mayor; it was not Effie’s job to be there. She would be returning on the train that night. 

Alone.

Haymitch took her hand and began dragging her out of the station. 

“Haymitch! You heard him. I only have a couple of hours. I can’t leave.”

“Victor’s Village isn’t far from here,” he insisted. “You should take off your heels.”

“And walk in the dirt?”

He shrugged. “Plenty of people here don’t have shoes.”

Effie didn’t find that convincing, but she removed her shoes and kept pace with him all the way to his house. 

“Not much nicer than your mother’s house, is it?” he remarked, opening the door.

Effie stepped inside and looked around. “It’s not nicer at all.” The house was filthy and unmaintained, dusty and packed with bottles. She didn’t think he’d cleaned it in all the 24 years that he had lived there. And she had to assume that the only reason there weren’t dirty dishes was because they had been licked clean by wild animals. 

“Is this your way of breaking things off with me?” she asked, looking around again. 

He laughed. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s worse.”

Victor’s Village was unoccupied except for him, so there was plenty of privacy on the porch behind the house. He brought her back there and sat her down on the bench. He knew they could talk safely there. Any outdoor bugging would never have survived the elements, and after 24 years of nothing it was unlikely he was still being monitored, though he had no doubt that he had been at first. He also never went back there – no one would have wasted time on planting a listening device in a place he never went. But just to be safe he turned on a creaky old fan, and planned to speak quietly. 

It was warm, but not hot, and the breeze was merciful, carrying nice smells from the meadow. She closed her eyes for just a second, involuntarily considering the idea of this place as her home. She couldn’t live in a district, could she? With a shudder, she thought that the worst part wouldn’t be the amenities she would be giving up, but instead watching those children without shoes. Seeing them everyday. 

“I thought you’d be taking me to your bedroom,” Effie joked, even though she meant it. “I wouldn’t have minded. We could still…” She popped to her feet.

But Haymitch pushed down on her shoulders and down beside her. “Listen, Effie…” 

“When you told me loved me, were you just saying what you thought I wanted to hear?” she interrupted, searching his eyes. “It was awful quick, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe not that quick,” he responded. “Maybe not as quick as it seemed. And, I don’t know, I felt it and it seemed like a good idea at the time to just say it.”

“At the time?” she asked quietly. 

“We can’t be together, Effie.”

“Haymitch-”

“No, No. Don’t” He put his hand over her mouth. “I am trying to protect you. Things are happening. Uprisings, OK? And President Snow, he blames Katniss. All of us, by extension. Certainly me and Cinna. It’s not safe for you to be seen as someone that I care about.” He looked her in the eyes. “And I do care about, Effie. I love you, I love you just like I said. I lost everyone I truly cared about all at once, and I didn’t want to love anyone ever again. But you, and Peeta, and Katniss – you didn’t give me any choice. But this time - this time I’m going to protect the ones I care about. And if that means that you and I are back to just coworkers - escort and mentor - then that’s what’s going to happen. And it’s better anyway, because you need to go back to the Capitol and take care of your mother. And it’s just cleaner, because what if I was arrested or killed or turned into an avox? How much worse would it be for you if we had made some sort of…commitment to one another? How much more would that hurt? And anyway, what are you going to do? Live here in District 12 someday? In this disgusting house? With me?”

When Haymitch removed his hand from her mouth, he had her tears on his fingers. 

“I could clean the house,” she whispered miserably, as if the filthy house had been the greatest of the problems and not the least.

It garnered a smile out of him. “I’m not actually sure that you could. You would probably break a nail.”

Effie looked down at her long, perfect fingernails. 

Haymitch’s head perked up. He rose to his feet and ran to the front of the house. Effie heard him shouting to someone. 

“That was Purnia,” he explained as he came back around. “She’ll drive you back to the train station.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

He lifted from under her shoulder and forced her to her stand. “It’s better if you go now.”

“’Better’, ‘better’, ‘better’. For a man who lives the way you do, you’ve got an awful lot of ideas about how things could be better. I think I’ll wait to take advice from someone who actually has life figured out,” she snapped. 

He had expected her to say some things that would make him want to change his mind, but he had not expected her to make such a cogent point. 

“I’m going to let you say these things and I’m going to leave because I have to, but the Victory Tour is only a few months away, and you will not find it so easy to put me aside then,” she declared confidently. 

“I’m not putting you aside, Effie, and it wasn’t easy. Do you not believe me about Snow? He killed my family. I don’t want to go through that again!”

Effie wiped away a tear, looking very much like a little girl, and then kissed him on his cheek. Then she began walking towards the front of the house and the car that would take her back to the train station, but Haymitch grasped her arm. “Just don’t fall in love with anyone else,” he begged. 

She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

“Because I don’t think I could stand that,” he elaborated. 

And then she left, and Haymitch took a swig out of the first bottle he found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that the ending is a little open, so to speak, but it was always my intention for this story to parallel canon, which is why I went to such lengths to make sure it matched up with Katniss’ narrative for the first book perfectly, and that’s why I brought it back around. I wanted someone to be able to start reading Catching Fire and be able to imagine that everything that happened in this story had happened during the first book. (Spoilers: I envision this story continuing alongside canon for Catching Fire much like it did for the first book, and then ending with Haymitch and Effie together in District 12 after the events of Mockingjay. I probably won’t write all that, but that’s what I see for the proper ending.)
> 
> And a huge thanks to everyone who kudos-ed and commented, and just everyone who read the whole thing!
> 
> I know the ending is a little on the sad side, but I hope it's clear enough that their love is stronger than whatever is keeping them apart.


End file.
